


Spoilers

by LCNH1



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Other, Wild theory for WM35
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-10-28 07:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LCNH1/pseuds/LCNH1
Summary: Does Seth really mean "do ANYTHING" to make sure Lesnar loses at Mania?(Keyword challenge from @shieldsocial: "Keywords: "Sell my soul to Slay the Beast".)





	1. Chapter 1

Seth Rollins had made his choice for Wrestlemania.

It was an easy choice, regardless of what he said to the fans. He was pretty sure they knew it too. 

He had to face Lesnar. He had to get that Universal Title back. 

He stood near Roman’s side during his crusade last year to get that title away from Lesnar, only to have illness sideline him.

Rollins persevered and won the Royal Rumble for that chance. He would do it on at Wrestlemania. In front of the entire world. He would finally prove himself.

Strangely, as he wandered around backstage, few had stopped to speak to him. All the buzz was about Becky Lynch. As usual, he couldn’t find Dean Ambrose (if Dean wants to talk, he’ll show up). Finn Balor also noticeably hard to find, but most of his night taken by an extended session with Braun and Kurt against Bobby Lashley, Lio Rush, Baron Corbin and Drew McIntyre. He wasn’t about to go to Triple H or Stephanie and start “sellout” rumors during Wrestlemania season. 

He had texted Roman earlier with no answer. No sense blowing up the Big Dog’s phone, he’ll call when he’s awake. Seth sighed and scanned through his phone a couple more times before heading out to the stage to talk to the crowd.

A text came up from a number he didn’t recognize. 

The message seemed both intellectual and whimsical.“You’ve called yourself ‘The Future’ in the past. When will ‘The Future’ become ‘The Present’?”

Rollins puzzled the rather eloquent question. “New Phone, who is this?”

“Someone who believes in commodities. Someone who believes in futures. Someone who believes in opportunities. You’re a like minded guy.”

Seth admitted that was at least true. “Seriously, who is this?”

“Someone who knows talent when he sees it. And someone who knows that you could use some new backup. We’ll talk soon.”

Seth puzzled the texts as he walked out to the ring, foregoing his usual celebratory arm-swinging and typical Seth Metal celebrations. He had enough on his mind to not have this mystery on his phone. 

He soaked in the “Burn it Down!” chants, that positive energy making some of the aches and pains of the last couple of weeks fade. He’d enjoyed the energy coming from the crowd for him; still did. But business is business…

He recapped the last 12 months. How crazy the previous year had been. Ups and downs, championships and reunions. A gauntlet match he could hang his hat on. It had been a year that  _ felt  _ right. Most of it, at least; the ending could have been a little better, but he’d recovered with a fast start out of the gate and winning the Royal Rumble. The Raws that followed had been full of good news and bad news...

“The bad news was that I took six F-5s,” he admitted with a wince. “And I hurt. I’m in pain. Maybe that’s wear and tear from the last 12 months, maybe that’s wear and tear from the last 15 years. But the pain I endured from those six F-5s was like nothing I had felt in my entire life.” the crowd booed. “But the good news is that I took six F-5s… and I’m still here.” Seth’s voice wavered with determination and pride.

“I took six F-5s and I am still standing!” The determination started to well up, riling the crowd. “And if I can  _ stand,  _ then I can  _ Fight!  _ And if I can  _ Fight,  _ then I can  _ STOMP!  _ And if I can  _ Stomp,  _ then I  _ CAN  _ beat Brock Lesnar!” Now the crowd awoke, cheering Seth on.

“And look, I had a lot of family and friends come up to me and ask me after taking those six F-5s, they asked me ‘what is the cost’ and I had to look them in the eye and tell them….  _ I don’t care.” _

He turned longingly to the Wrestlemania sign again, that childlike wonder returning to his eyes. Maybe it still didn’t feel real, even if the pain did.

“If Wrestlemania could be the last match of my career.. If Wrestlemania is the last time -”

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” A gruff voice interrupted Seth’s dire reflections. He slowly blinked, turning to the ramp, recognizing the unmistakable cadence of Brock Lesnar’s advocate, Paul Heyman.

As per usual, the heavyset man introduced himself and the crowd sang along. “Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Paul Heyman! And do I have a Wrestlemania-level surprise for YOU!” He pointed to Seth, but referred to the arena in general. “The REIGNING!! DEFENDING!! UNDISPUTED!! UNIVERSAL HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION…” he spun back toward the entranceway.

**_“BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROCK LEEESSSSSSSSNAR~!!”_ ** Paul gestured to the entrance, awaiting his client to emerge.

No music played. The crowd was not impressed and Seth even less so. Heyman brought the mic back up to his face.

“...Is not here this evening,” he grinned to the Architect. 

Seth was not amused. “Well surprise surprise, what else is new Paul?” 

Heyman puffed up his chest a bit. “It gets them every time because obviously, “Oh, it gets em every time,” he bragged, “because ignorance is indeed, bliss. But have no fear! For Paul Heyman is here to educate you - actually, Mr. Rollins, I’m here to educate…  _ you.”  _ He focused solely on Rollins for the moment. “You see, Mr. Rollins, your are pontificating on the premise of a misguided notion that all men are created equal.” Heyman chuckled as Rollins shook his head and smirked. The Advocate wagged a finger to keep Seth’s attention.

He droned on about the uneven playing field of a Kingslayer facing a Beast. No matter how good Seth was, in Paul Heyman’s eyes it would be good enough against anyone else in the WWE except Lesnar.  _ That’s what advocates do,  _ Seth shrugged inwardly. He wouldn’t be swayed by the threats and song and dance that Heyman had put on so many times before and had been doing since Lesnar came back nearly seven years ago.

Heyman’s tirade only escalated. “So if you go into Wrestlemania with the mindset that you’ll do  _ anything -  _ including taking a beating that will designate Wrestlemania as the last match of your career, THAT is a task that we call a ‘suicide mission’!”  

The gears turned faster in Seth’s mind.  _ Risking it all … is this really a suicide mission? What would Dean do? What would Roman do? What the hell will *I* do? I’m locked in on this. I can’t change my mind.  _

“So here is fair warning, Seth Rollins!” Heyman concluded, “If you walk into Wrestlemania and you try to TAKE the Universal title away from Brock Lesnar, Seth Rollins, you will be the ‘Architect of Your Own Demise’.”

Seth only nodded slightly to that possibility. “And Ladies and Gentlemen,” Paul turned to the disgruntled audience, “That is not a prediction. That is a  _ spoiler.”  _

Seth’s resolve rose with the microphone. “You know what, Paul? You’re right. But what you don’t seem to understand, is that I. Don’t. Care.” His voice devoid of his typical brashness, none of his swashbuckling arrogance. This was focus. This was the most focused Seth could remember being in a very long time. 

“Brock Lesnar has held this industry - the industry that I love more than anything in this world - he has held it hostage for two LONG years, and I will not stand for it ANYMORE!

“So I do not care if Wrestlemania is a suicide mission, because I will BE that martyr, Paul! I will be that martyr - I will sacrifice everything! I will sacrifice my body, I will sacrifice my heart…”

Paul Heyman listened intently as Seth made his proclamations.  

“Paul, I will sell my soul to the devil. I will burn in hell if that means that Brock Lesnar does not leave Wrestlemania as Universal Champion. And Paul, that is not a prediction. 

_ “THAT  _ is a spoiler.” The confidence oozed back into his voice as he threw Paul’s catchphrase right back at him, leaving the Advocate to ponder. He puzzled much of what Seth said as he backed toward the entrance.

“You tell him that, Paul!!” Seth shouted off-mic as his music blared. “You tell Brock Lesnar that right now! Get on your damn phone and tell him!” He didn’t care if Heyman didn’t hear him. He just wanted that message to get through. 

Seth didn’t take his eyes off the entranceway.  _ Roman paid a steep price to get to the top of the mountain,  _ he thought.  _ I don’t have obstacles like that in my way. And if there’s a devil out there buying…  _

An air raid siren blared, almost catching Rollins off-guard. Then the rev of a chainsaw and guitar roared underneath it.

Dean.

Dean Ambrose sauntered to the ring as usual, an expression of calm not normally seen on his face. Seth had never seen his crazy friend so… at peace with things, it seemed. The crowd cheered, unsure of what Ambrose had in store for them this time around. 

He skipped the pleasantries of walking around the ring and hopped right up on the apron. He nodded to Seth, enough that both could hear the slight ring of the dog tags that Dean sported. He had forgone the shirt again, shoulders and arms bundled in that bulky bomber jacket he’d picked up shortly after he’d struck out on his own. His close haircut and well-trimmed beard still alien to Rollins; Dean had been king of the hobo haircut and shaved on a whim. Tonight, he looked properly groomed for camera, and tonight he had something on his mind other than dealing with Nia Jax or even Triple H. 

He held his hand out expectantly to Seth, not a request for a handshake. That’s not Dean’s style and Seth knew it. Dean wanted the microphone. Not another one from ringside, he wanted Seth’s.  With a shrug Seth handed it over, watching as his longtime brother in arms curled it into his hand, most of his fingers wrapped around the flag. There was no frenetic pace, no shaking out of his head. Just a simple, stoic glance from those haunted blue eyes. He shook out his right shoulder before bringing the mic up to his face.

“I only got one thing to say to you,” Dean surprisingly blunt. Seth was prepared for a speech, a tirade, a rambling story or some lengthy essay about if Rollins truly meant all that he had said to Paul Heyman. Seth puzzled his friend as he rocked slowly from one foot to the other and back, fingers tapping on the mic flag while he decided what that one thing would be. Seth braced.

Dean cocked his head to one side before speaking. “Slay the Beast,” he said simply.

Dean let that sink in for a moment before giving Seth a very definitive and confident nod. Seth blinked at Dean, shocked that he was getting encouragement and not a lecture. It looked like his former Shield-mate accepted this level of resolve and anticipated more. Dean dropped the mic and rolled clear of the ring, grabbing a seat at ringside as he watched Seth puzzle what just happened.

Dean didn’t need to explain any more to Seth. He casually raised both hands, opening and closing them. A slow smile crossed Seth’s face from the gesture.  He departed the ring, listening as Dean’s music began playing again. The sirens were gone. Maybe Dean  _ was  _ at peace with himself and his situation. 

Seth, however, was not. He jogged back to his phone where there was indeed a message. 

“Spoiler? Good sir, let us strike a deal.”

A deal with the devil. Seth took a deep breath and arranged the meeting. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So how hurt is Seth? And there's something going on about Dean....

Chapter 2

 

Paul Heyman didn’t need to speak of Brock Lesnar’s accolades. He chose to save his voice this week to wow the crowds with a carefully crafted video of his current client’s accomplishments. How Lesnar learned about hard work growing up on a farm, translating that to the ring in school, receiving top honors in NCAA. The fact that WWE wanted him and he didn’t have to pick up the phone. Cramming a Hall of Fame career into two years before striking out for greener pastures such as the UFC. (He skipped the football part because of the XFL preparations).

He regaled in Lesnar’s return, the end of Undertaker’s streak and all those Brock had conquered up to this point. The crowd’s displeasure amused him. “Boo that all you want, but just like Seth Rollins, there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it!

“So here, impromptu - that means ‘on the spot’, we do this instantly, off the top of my head -  survey: how many of you actually believe that in his Blaze of Glory, Seth Rollins will emerge from Wrestlemania as the Universal Heavyweight Champion?”

The crowd cheered in response, but it didn’t quite have the heft that past opponents received when Heyman posed the question. He raised the mic to continue, slowed by a smattering of “Burn it down!” chants. Again, not loud ones, but enough to give him pause. Unimpressed, Heyman continued. “There’s not enough fire in Seth Rollins’ soul to burn down Suplex City!”

Curiously, Finn Balor’s music - not Seth Rollins’ - interrupted Heyman. The Advocate chose not to engage and surrendered the ring to the new Intercontinental Champion.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

Seth had played up his back issues to get some peace and quiet backstage. _All eyes forward to Mania,_ he thought as he fussed with some resistance bands to keep loose in case something did come up as the show progressed. There’d be an interview later, that’s all he was aware of for his schedule.

He’d only been half paying attention to the monitor as he worked out, eyes closed and scenarios playing out in his mind. Fighting Lesnar is similar to Roman, about the same level of power but a little less speed. Lesnar will need to be outsmarted and outmaneuvered, might have to use the ring to his advantage. _How much Lesnar abuse can a ring take?_ He wondered.

A familiar guitar riff interrupted his thoughts for the moment. A guitar riff that lacked the blare of air raid sirens and flashing police lights.

Dean?

Seth fumbled for the remote and turned up the volume. The sirens were gone. This whole “Moral compass” tangent he’d been on was gone. That stupid bomber jacket was gone, too. The commentary didn’t comment on all that being missing, speaking more of Dean being Dean, slapping the taste out of Drew McIntyre’s mouth to get a match out of him. Commentary also mentioned that Drew was originally talking to Triple H about fighting Rollins.

 _One less match to worry about,_ Seth thought as he absently rubbed his lower back with the back of one hand. Seth dismissed it as a potential revenge tour Dean might be on after seeing Drew, Corbin and Bobby Lashley triple powerbombing Braun Strowman. Rollins himself would be bothered about it, but it’s hard to Triple Powerbomb when you don’t have the proper “Bomber” in place.

His phone buzzed a couple of times to remind him of the interview. He tossed the resistance bands aside for now.

\----------------------------------

 

“Seth,” Charly Caruso began carefully, “After what we just saw, any regrets about choosing to face Brock Lesnar at Wrestlemania?”

Seth couldn’t back down now. “You know Charly, you can call Paul Heyman a lot of things, and I have, but, uh… a liar is not one of them. Every single thing he said about Brock Lesnar is the truth.

“Where Paul’s got it mixed up though is I’m not walking into Wrestlemania with a death wish. I’m walking into Wrestlemania with an acceptance of my fate. And Brock Lesnar needs to accept his fate - because at Wrestlemania, it’s all over for him.”

Screams and cheers started up in the crowd. This only emboldened him. “His reign of terror is done.  And as for my fate? Whether I leave on my own two feet or I get carried out on a stretcher, I promise I’m leaving Wrestlemania as Universal Champion.”

He wanted to believe these words; he put all the conviction he could muster into them. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking about how he was stuck doing this on his own.

He heard someone grunting behind him. Charly had already taken her leave, meaning Seth was now standing by himself next to a slightly battered Dean Ambrose. Seth’s lunatic friend tugged at his own neck and rotated out his shoulders, seemingly oblivious to someone standing there.

“Can I help you with something?” Seth impatiently asked, finally getting Dean’s attention. The Cincy native turned, looking bewildered where he’d ended up. He shrugged.

“Yeah,” Dean managed to answer, “Where were you out there, man? Jeez….”  Dean went back to cracking his neck and checking for loose teeth.

Now it was Seth’s turn to be bewildered. The two of them hadn’t shared space in almost two months after “Settling” things in the ring at the TLC pay-per-view the previous year. Dean hadn’t shown up out of nowhere in a while, and here he is like nothing had happened since the middle of October?? Seth had enough on his mind with his issues with the medical staff, he didn’t need _Dean_ to add to the pile. Rollins didn’t ask Dean to deflect McIntyre away from him, Seth wasn’t cleared to be out there anyway, and hadn’t they already been through discussions about helping each other out?

“Have you completely, _completely_ lost your mind?” Seth finally asked, thankful he could even come up with a coherent question. Dean paused in his histrionics to look Seth in the eye.

Dean figured Seth already knew that answer. “Eh,” he shrugged again and ambled off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman's back? That could be complicated...

 

Chapter 3

 

“...I’m in remission, y’all.”

Relief and celebration shook the entire building, front to back. Seth Rollins pumped his fists and danced for his brother. Roman Reigns had beaten leukemia for the second time in his life, and looked more than ready to return to the ring. 

He jogged to Gorilla to watch the rest of the speech, expecting to see Dean there as well. Nothing. He shrugged it off and celebrated with anyone who passed by him, a high-five, a hug, a laugh. He didn’t have to hear anything else. 

“You’re going out there, aren’t you?” One of the agents asked rhetorically.

“I don’t care if my music plays or not, that’s MY brother out there and - “

“So where’s Dean?”

Seth shrugged. “I have no idea what is going on with him lately. One week he wants to rip my head off, the next he’s cheering for me against Lesnar at Mania? I don’t get it. At all.

“But you know what? I’m not worried about Dean,” Seth pointed to the monitor. “THAT is what’s important right now!” 

The agent nodded, satisfied. Seth watched as the agent went over to the tech table and said something to the guys there. Roman’s music started up, and it played for a minute or so while the Big Dog did one more round of hand-slapping and hugging. As he hit the ramp, “BURN IT DOWN~!!!” Blasted over the arena speakers. Pumping a fist in victory, Seth strode out to his big brother, clapping and grinning from ear to ear. 

Roman returned that grin, and they embraced. “Love you brother…” Seth made sure Roman could hear him. 

Roman just hugged him tighter. 

 

\--------------------------------

 

“So what’s up with Dean?” Roman queried as Seth got comfortable in the private locker room Roman had been offered for the night. 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Seth shrugged. “I don’t get it. I thought he’d be right behind me after the opening segment.”

“Oh, I got to see him, He was just a lot quieter than usual. He gave me a hug but didn’t say a word.”

“I don’t know if he even knows what to say. You’re back, that’s what matters, right?”

Roman gave his little brother a more serious stare. “You two were fighting while I was gone. Nothing to fight about. I had to go.”

Seth held up both hands in defense. “Look, I thought at first he was just really upset that you had to go and he couldn’t do anything about it. He’d only just got back what, two months before you had to leave? I didn’t fight back, I tried to talk him down, but man did he take a left turn…”

Roman glanced up at the monitor, watching Dean battling it out with Drew McIntyre. “So you didn’t ask him to get Drew off your back? I know you’re not 100% right now….”

“No, I didn’t - last week he just walked up to Drew, slapped him in front of Triple H and here we are.”

The two fell silent as the match progressed, both frowning when Elias smashed a guitar across Dean’s back to make sure McIntyre won. Roman put his drink down when Corbin and Lashley came out to stomp Dean.

Seth grabbed a steel chair. “You coming? He was looking for me last week.”

“We’re the only ones allowed to beat up Dean. Let’s go.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth's glad Roman's back, but.....

Chapter 4

 

Dean Ambrose wandered through backstage, keeping to himself for the night. It was Philadelphia; he bled here, he wept here, he left some of himself here. Even if CZW was way back in his rear view mirror, the scars were still there. Badges of honor. He almost missed it… almost. 

Roman was opening the show again. That’s good, let his brother get those happy cheers while he can. He figured there’d be a couple of boos tonight, since Philly could never make up their minds about Roman. Hated him at the Rumble, loved him when stomped Triple H 11 months later. He shrugged it off;  _ the fans like me, it’s the office that has the issues.  _

He’d found some roadcases to relax on, and two cargo blankets for a pillow. As usual, his eyes wouldn’t close and his mind wouldn’t stop. This was gonna be a long night.

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

“..This week in Philly, we take our Yard back!” Roman declared to a jubilant Philadelphia crowd. He appreciated their enthusiasm, but there wasn’t a smile on his face just yet. “I’ve had to think about my future. I had to think about what I want, and to be honest, what I want - there’s one man standing in my way. And that one man? Well, he’s my Brother, Seth Rollins.”

The crowd offered a tentative cheer, already speculating. “So in order for me to get what I want,” Roman continued, “I need to address him, so why don’t we bring Seth out here?”   


The crowd had no issue with seeing the main Workhorse of Raw coming out to the ring…

 

\------------------------

 

Seth himself, however, had been caught off-guard by this. He figured if Roman wanted to talk to him, they should have walked out together. Still, Rollins could never get enough of the crowd roaring “BURN IT DOWN!” as he walked out, miming  “You wanna talk to me, brother?” as he made his way to the ring. Seth embraced Roman, both still glowing a bit from Reigns’ triumphant return. 

Seth soaked in the cheers as he grabbed a microphone. He motioned for quiet before facing Roman.

“All right, before we get to all that I just got to tell you something, man - seeing you come out here last week, standing in this ring, knowing that you’d won the fight of your  _ life?  _  That was one of the greatest moments of my career, brother. That’s how much it meant to me!” 

The crowd agreed, watching the Architect almost start to tear up again. “Seeing you standing here, that made me feel like I could do anything! I’m gonna take that inspiration, I’m gonna take that motivation, I’m gonna take it to Wrestlemania and I’m gonna SLAY THE BEAST!!” 

They nodded to each other that this was Seth’s mission. “More importantly,” Seth promised, “I’m gonna bring that Universal Championship back where it belongs and that is right here on Monday Night Raw EVERY. SINGLE. WEEK.

“With that said, I think I might know where your head’s at,” Seth calmed. “I understand what it’s like to vacate a title and never lose it. And if there’s anybody out there that deserves an opportunity at Brock Lesnar as much as I do, it’s you.

“So if that’s where you’re at, man, let’s talk about it.” Seth worried that perhaps all the work he’d put into this ‘Mania match was about to go up in smoke.

Roman slowly shook his head. “I thought you knew everything,” Roman needled his little brother. “But you’re wrong. While I was gone, one person watched over this place and it was this man, right here!” Roman pointed to Seth, eliciting cheers from the crowd.

“One man kept this place in line, one man knew what was best and that was you. Nobody has more confidence in you than I do. I’ve been in that ring with Brock. I know what it’s gonna take to take that championship and I know you got what it takes. So the only thing I got to say to you about Brock, the Universal Championship and the main event at Wrestlemania is  ‘Good luck, my brother’.”

Some in the crowd were relieved that Roman wasn’t trying to take that from Seth. Seth was especially thankful. Roman, however, hadn’t finished speaking. “But, I need a favor.”

“Anything you need,” Seth immediately replied. “You know I got your back.”

Roman wanted to make sure of that. “Anything?”

“Anything at all.”

Roman nodded. “I wanna get the band back together, one last time!”

The crowd cheered in approval. Seth was a little flustered.  _ Roman wants the Shield back,  _ he thought with a hint of anger. Roman goaded the crowd and gave Seth an expectant look.

Seth raised a cautious hand along with the microphone. “All right, I said ‘anything’ but anything but ‘that’! ANYTHING but ‘that’!”

The crowd booed mostly at the refusal. Roman carefully wiped his face. 

“After what Ambrose did on the night he did it,” Seth clarified, “no way, man.”

“Who cares~!?” Someone in the crowd shouted. Roman kind of agreed but didn’t acknowledge the taunt. 

He turned back to the crowd. “I thought I was gonna sell him right off the get-go but I think I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

“Shield! Shield! Shield! Shield! Shield! Shield! Shield! Shield! Shield! Shield! Shield!” The crowd erupted. Seth closed his eyes. 

_ No no nono, not this, and not now. After Mania….. Maybe? None of us needs the Shield.  _

Roman wanted it. The crowd really wanted it. Seth could only stand there, conflicted. “Look man,” Roman explained, “When I was out. I looked through a different perspective and the fact is, man, tomorrow’s not guaranteed. We don’t know how much time we actually have.”  _ Dean should know that too, what he’s been through,  _ Roman thought to himself.

“Life is short, man," Roman emphasized, "The most important things are the relationships that we have and you two are my Brothers, man. And I have no clue what’s going on with Dean, I don’t know if he’s coming or going or what he’s doing. All I know is that he’s making headlines! And *I* know I want one more moment with my Brothers before we may not be around anymore.”

The crowd murmured in curiosity and worry. “So what do you say, man?”

The crowd erupted into its third or fourth “Shield! Shield! Shield!” chant, tugging even harder at Seth’s heartstrings. October had felt eerily final, and Dean’s temper tantrum that followed had only made it worse. He paced the ring for a moment, looking to the crowd. He already knew what THEY wanted. Did he want that too? Could he still be part of that?

He then realized that the last time he had bumped fists with both his brothers was that very emotional night. He could barely see through his tears, trying to match up to Roman’s hand. Roman had remained still and watched him find his place, his glance most likely reassuring and focused. Seth didn’t see if Roman had looked at Dean at all during that moment. That whole night had gutted him twice.

He could see Roman out of the corner of his eye, the big Samoan’s arms open wide and that same little kid grin on his face. Deep down, Seth really felt that was just not fair.    


“You know I put that part of my life behind me,” Seth reminded Roman. Seth knew that he himself screwed it up once, circumstances screwed it up a couple more times, but now?

“But you’re right,” Seth admitted. “Life is too short! Tomorrow’s not guaranteed! You want the Shield, one last time?” 

Roman definitively gestured “one last time”. Seth nodded. “Then for you, my brother, I’m in!”

Roman pumped his fist in triumph. “Philly, we got two, we need our third, bring Ambrose out here RIGHT NOW!!” 

The crowd cheered and celebrated, eagerly awaiting the chainsaw guitar riff. Everyone rose to their feet as Dean lumbered out, a little surprised despite this somewhat being “home turf” for him. 

He heard them chanting his name; small comfort as he tried to find the right way to answer his brothers before being waylaid by a guitar. It felt like a block of concrete on a stick slamming into his back. He collapsed and writhed on the stage, Seth and Roman hurrying to his side. He felt Roman’s hand on his shoulder; small comfort. Seth kept a couple of steps back, kicking aside the remains of the smashed instrument. Dean couldn’t look either in the eye, guessing they’d ask him why it only took one guitar shot to take him out. He stumbled to his feet like an angry drunk and headed backstage, maybe go back to his hiding place…

“Told you his mind isn’t in a good place,” Seth admitted to Roman.

“Still, who does Elias think he is?” The Samoan grumbled.

 

\--------------------------------------------

Despite how deep into the arena he’d gone, Dean still had to deal with Roman and Seth.

Roman found him first, shortly after re-taping his hands and making sure everything was snug and “right” for his match with Elias later. Roman peeked around a corner, seeing his brother prepping. He slipped into the room, glancing around in a bit of deja vu.

“What’s up, man?” Roman tried with some quiet plesantries, just to keep Dean’s typically divided attention. “Man, I thought we were past hanging out in places like this. This is ridiculous, man. You know we have a locker room, right?” Dean simply leaned back and forth from foot to foot, not answering. “You know you got a seat in mine anytime.” Still Dean didn’t answer. “I hope you know we can talk about anything, bro. Anything.”

Dean couldn’t look Roman in the eyes, he knew if he did he wouldn’t have a choice. Roman was ALWAYS his brother, and Roman kept his promise to come back. “Yeah, you wanna talk,” Dean started with a little too much sarcasm in his voice, “You wanna talk,” Dean repeated as he rubbed his face and ran his hands through his criminally short hair. “I gotta stay sharp, gotta stay sharp… I gotta get ready for this match.” Dean paced faster and faster before simply turning away to march down the hall.

Roman sighed. Whatever bothered his brother, he didn’t want help. And Dean never asks for help, so he might be on his own this time. Dean better know that his Big Brother won’t accept that.

\--------------------------------------------

Seth spotted Roman coming up the stairs. He dropped his phone in his pocket and matched stride with the Big Dog. “So what did he say?”

“More like what he didn’t say,” Roman sighed again. “He’s too busy thinking about beating up Elias or just flat out ducking me to my face. You told me he was in a bad place, I didn’t think -”

Seth shook his head.“The fact that he hasn’t just stood up and punched me in the mouth lately is a mystery in itself.”

“I won’t stop you if you wanna try talking to him. I’ll help you to the trainer’s room if it goes wrong.” Roman pointed to the stairs behind them. “You’ll hear him shuffling around down there. Good luck.”

\--------------------------------------------------

 

Dean heard footsteps approaching. Roman wouldn’t come back this quickly, so he guessed, correctly, that Seth decided to come plead his case, too. Dean really, REALLY wasn’t interested in what his “whiny brother” had to say about this Shield business. Seth screwed him once, then didn’t understand what was going on in Dean’s head after Roman broke the bad news. It WASN’T a betrayal! Dean was going to lose the one man he trusted with anything and everything in the world, and couldn’t get his brain around it. Seth’s attempts to calm him only made him angrier, and all that grief and frustration came out in a complete misunderstanding of Roman’s “Condition”. Dean wasn’t a doctor and every time he’d heard the word “Cancer” it was pretty damn final! 

Seth picked his way between road cases to find Dean seated in a makeshift man-cave made with some blackout curtains and a couple of boxes. The Architect couldn’t be put off by the spartan setup Dean chose over a locker room. He had to make his speech count.

“Interesting setup you got here,” Seth started with small talk. Dean slowly rose from his makeshift man-cave to listen to Seth’s stumbling. “But, uh - you got a minute? We gotta talk!” Ambrose simply looked to Rollins in disdain. “Look, I know we haven’t always gotten along, and that’s no secret. But damn, dude, that’s what brothers do! They  _ fight!  _  They fight, and I’d like to think that even through everything, there’s always been a little bit of mutual respect between us.” 

Seth turned up the humility. “And I’ll be honest with you - “

_ Wonder if this is the first time,  _  Dean thought.

“Whether we’re on the same team or we’re fighting against each other,” seth continued, “when we are out in that ring together… you are my wrestling soulmate.” Seth’s right hand carefully reached up to his heart. “You have been, and you always will be. 

“So look, we got one chance. We got one shot to do this thing the right way. So let’s - “

“Get the Shield back together?” Dean finished for Rollins. “One last time?” Dean turned away as if to ask someone else, peering into the man-cave. “Yeah, no can do. I’m preoccupied right now. 

“I appreciate the help last week, a’right?” Dean made sure to tell his sensitive little brother, “But I got some business in that ring tonight. I gotta do it on my own.” He settled back into his man-cave, hiding in the shadows like Finn’s little demon buddy supposedly does. 

Seth paused, trying to think of what else he could even say.  _ Dammit Dean,  _ Seth couldn’t say aloud. He left his brother alone, the absolute last thing he wanted to do. 

Once Seth was out of earshot, Dean himself permitted a sigh. He wanted to believe Seth again. 

He couldn’t think about that now. He had a musician to silence.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------

 

Seth and Roman stood near a monitor to watch Dean’s match with Elias. The musician managed to get a couple extra minutes of performance in before the entrance music drowned him out. 

Dean fought, but in the Architect’s eyes he could see Dean’s distracted mind. “His head’s not completely in this,” he remarked.

Reigns looked away, shaking his head. “I thought this would have been a lot easier….”

“Hey, at least I agreed.”

“You weren’t the one I was worried about,” Roman replied. “Now Dean’s down a step, his back’s bothering him, and here I am pestering him about playing Superhero SWAT Team.”

They continued to watch, Elias slowly gaining the upper hand. Dean rallied, but made the odd decision of climbing the turnbuckles despite his bad back. Rollins turned away before he busted out into a torrent of “no no no nonono”s. Roman saw it through; Dean’s elbow drop countered with a high knee by Elias, who then planted Dean with his signature “Drift away” Fisherman swinging neckbreaker.

Dean lay in the ring as Elias took his leave. Roman grabbed Seth's arm. "Dean's giving up on Dean. We're gonna talk him out of THAT, at least." He marched to the ramp, Seth falling into step with his big brother.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------

 

_ Goddammit. Goddammit!  _  The curse repeating over and over in his head. Dean couldn’t help it. He lost to Elias. Didn’t even need the guitar this time. Dean just wanted to scream and curse and froth about it, he didn’t need the extra burden of Seth and Roman coming down to help him up. He refused their assistance and tried not to hear their words.

“We got one more shot at this thing,” Seth reminded Dean, “What’s it gonna be, alright?”

Roman said something as well, but it was lost under the cheers and chants. Dean angrily pointed at Roman. “Don’t put ANY of this on me!”

“Look it’s not on you!” Seth insisted. “It’s on ALL of us! We gotta do this together, all right? We only got one more shot to do this the right way!” 

Dean walked away from Seth to get to the ropes,  but Roman held out his arms to block. 

“You’re still trying to put this on me!” he growled at Roman.

“We’re trying to take this OFF you, man!” Roman protested. 

Dean couldn’t listen any longer. He pushed through his brothers and hopped out of the ring, choosing to leave as he did that one night: he legged over the guardwall and started up the stairs, leaving Seth and Roman alone in the ring. Fans pleaded with him as he walked away; he just couldn’t do it. He was near the exit when music started up.

Corbin. McIntyre. Lashley. All of them swaggered out to the top of the ramp, amused by the soap opera unfolding in the ring. "Come on, guys," Baron mock-protested, "Just spare us another minute from this broken record! I get it, we're in the 'City of Brotherly Love', but this," he gestured to the retreating Dean and back to Rollins and Reigns - "Is just pathetic."

Drew gathered the mic from his comrade. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the fabled 'Hounds of Justice' now nothing more than three broken stray dogs fightin for the scraps at our table!"

Seth swore he heard Roman growl. Dean had halted his exit for the moment.

Drew turned to the crowd. "Let me make myself clear! When I speak, you will show respect! Shut your mouths!" He mock-kneeled to the two men in the ring. "Roman, look at me! This isn't quite the return you envisioned now is it buddy? I mean, 'The Shield Returns!' would be quite spectacular tonight! but you two are bloody pathetic!!"

Dean agreed for the moment and started up the stairs again. 

"We WERE going to offer you the opportunity for an epic match this Sunday at Fastlane," Drew continued. "But you don't deserve it." He stepped closer to Corbin. "So what we're gonna do, is we're gonna end this tonight!"

Dean hesitated on the steps. His instincts proved correct.

"We're going to end this RIGHT NOW!" Drew finished, sending Corbin and Lashley to circle the ring. 

Dean stifled his own growl as these three mocked the Shield method of attack, turning it directly on Seth and Roman. The Big Dog squared up with McIntyre while Lashley and Corbin double teamed Seth. Dean watched, knowing that Seth could weasel his way past Corbin and deal with Lashley. Roman wasn’t in any danger against McIntyre.

Corbin split off from Seth to help Drew with Roman. Corbin wasn’t the best fighter but he had purpose, given all the grief Roman gave him when Corbin worked for Kurt Angle. Drew and Baron had Reigns off his feet, slowly slumping into the corner. 

Dean fumed. They were double teaming his brother. Lashley had Rollins down. Dean fussed. Seth was getting his ass handed to him.  He looked down to the ring where his brothers still flailed against the trio. Dean couldn’t take it anymore.

_ THOSE ARE  _ _ MY _ _ BROTHERS!  _ He galloped down the stairs with new purpose. Without thinking he effortlessly vaulted the guardwall and slid into the ring, eyes wild and fists flying. He made sure that Corbin, McIntyre AND Lashley got a faceful of his taped fists! He laid into Corbin while Roman Superman Punched Drew out of one side of the ring and Seth superkicked Lashley out. Dean swung and flipped Corbin out of the ring, snarling at him as the former Constable bounced partway up the ramp. 

Dean still growled and flailed, but Roman had calmed down. Despite all the grumbling and complaining to his Brothers, Ambrose came back to help, so Reigns would give this one last try. 

Roman shook out his right arm and stretched his fingers, clenched his right fist and held it out. Seth put his fist out carefully, trying not to touch fists and leave room for Dean. 

Dean stomped and paced behind them, a war raging in his mind. He’d burned his vest and swore off the Shield. Roman doesn’t take “no” for an answer and Seth hitting him with something short of a marriage proposal only made all the noise in his head louder. The “Shield!” chants escalated from the crowd, but Dean fell deaf to that. He could hear his brothers clearly.

“Come on…” Seth taunted. Dean wouldn’t come have back if he didn’t care. 

“You’re still my brother whatever you choose,” Roman assured Dean.

“Come on!” Seth demanded.  _ Dean, you can’t strand me now… _

“One last run, that’s all I’m asking.” Roman’s arm started to tremble, all that power and love and respect, just wishing for Dean to come back.

Dean grabbed the top rope, facing away from them. Is it loyalty or hypocrisy? Is it redemption or his one chance to walk away? What would his brothers do? What would they think? The questions spun faster and faster.

“COME ONNNNN~!!!!” Seth pleaded, knowing that deep down Dean doesn’t want to be alone anymore. Roman knew it, too. 

Dean had his own promise to keep. He never abandoned them, he never betrayed them, Roman promised he'd come back, and he did. Roman didn't abandon Dean, and Dean knew he could never abandon Roman. He lunged between his brothers, fist finally connecting with theirs.

Roman celebrated with a Samoan Warrior Roar. His brothers had come back to him.

Seth roared along, partially in disbelief that this same Dean Ambrose beat him up over something out of all of their control. He promised to work with Roman, and now Dean was on board too.

Dean stood strangely still, just allowing that connection to help disperse all the noise in his head and calm him down. But in that rush he felt something else. His mind flashed back to CZW again. To the dozens of shows at the old ECW arena. His blood. His sweat. The clanging of chairs, the bite of the barbed wire, the smashing of tables and the cold concrete. The flashback fading at the sound of Roman’s voice.

“Thank you.”

Dean pulled his arm up, slapping at the tape on his wrist. “We’re back, baby~!” He traded forearms with Seth and Roman before turning to the Philly crowd. They showed their own round of the Brotherly Love the city had its reputation, and the cheers utterly intoxicating. Roman soaked it in before reminding his brothers of the match they’ll have that Sunday. The taunts from the stage lost in the roar of the crowd, but Dean made sure he was heard.


	5. Fastlane!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final ride of the Shield..?
> 
> (special thanks to @AlterEgoZowie for dialogue provided in this chapter!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We held tight to a promise  
> Only Brothers understand.
> 
> Though we were so young,  
> One for all and All for one,  
> Just as sure as the rivers' gonna run.
> 
> Blood on Blood, One on one  
> We'll still be standing when all was said and done  
> Blood on Blood, One on one  
> And I'll be there for you til Kingdom Come!"
> 
> -Bon Jovi

Roman Reigns couldn’t grin any harder if he tried. He’d put his Shield gear on during the pre show and marched around backstage like a little kid in costume. He bellowed and hollered all around backstage, just glad to be back and actually getting in the ring tonight! He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t stand still.

“It’s like you and Seth traded bodies tonight,” Dean heckled from the comfort of a chair he “Borrowed” from one of the offices. “Seth’s had his nose in his phone all night.”

“Happens when you’re running a coffee shop and a gym on top of being on the road,” Seth snarked back as he finished typing out a message. “I told them not to bother me til tomorrow morning.”

He absently scrolled through his Twitter between messages, re-reading something he had posted earlier in the week. Someone had asked about his new “Beastslayer” shirts.

“Are those a spoiler?” The tweet asked. 

He’d replied immediately. “It’s a promise. From me to you. From me to the universe. From me to myself.” 

He’d received a text from another number he didn’t recognize shortly after he posted:

_ Don’t get ahead of yourself.  _

He received a text from that number a few minutes ago:

_ Enjoy your “Last ride”, and let the real business begin tomorrow. Give them a good memory. _

He dropped a thumb’s up emoji and shut off his phone just before a big Samoan paw reached for it. “Davenport, hello, this is Cleveland, reunion in progress…”

“Hey, hey!!” Seth rolled off the roadcase he’d been sitting on and jammed the phone into his back pocket. Dean smirked from his seat.

“That wasn’t ‘business’. What’s her name and does she have your room number yet?”

“Shut up, Dean!”

Ambrose hopped out of his chair. “Uh huh, knew you’d talk to the rat with the-”

Roman stepped between them before it escalated. “We’re not doing this tonight. Any other night, you two can beat the piss out of each other. But Not. Tonight.” His smile completely disappeared.

Dean leaned over Roman’s arm. “I don’t like it when Seth hides things from us,” he growled, shoulders swaying a little. 

“Oh, like you don’t have any secrets,” Seth growled back. “Fine. Getting messages from random numbers. Did you actually write my number on a bathroom stall?”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut in disbelief. “ONE stall in FCW and I’ll never hear the end of it! No, I didn’t put your number on a bathroom stall! I just wonder where coffee-jacked Colby is tonight, maybe it’s just an old conspiracy theory, but sometimes I see stuff that’s just too connected.”

“Oh, like you didn’t have conspiracy theories when Roman-” 

Dean grabbed Roman’s arm and pushed it down, the big Samoan resisting. “I’m not gonna go around and pretend that didn’t happen. I’m not gonna pretend that I didn’t lose my mind and wander around with a gas mask on.” He turned to Roman. “How about a little more warning before you drop something that heavy on us, huh?”

“I did that on purpose,” Roman’s replied evenly. “Everyone found out at the same time so stories wouldn’t start circulating. Now I’m listening to all the conspiracy theories that I wasn’t sick in the first place, and y’all know THAT’s wrong.”

“Could you have done it on a different day?”Dean had Seth and Roman’s undivided attention. “Any day but that day!” he fumed. “ If it could have waited til the next Raw, or you show up on Smackdown, or tweeted a video, or something - “

Now Roman was more confused than angry. “What’re you getting at, Dean?”

Ambrose brought both fists up to his chin, breathing a little faster. He looked back and forth to his brothers. “What was the date?”

“Date?” Seth repeated. “What does - “

“October 22nd,” Roman replied. “Why?”

Dean clenched his teeth, not lowering his fists. “Go back one year.”

“We had a match at TLC, Roman wasn’t there-” 

“THE DATE!?!?” Dean shouted down Seth. 

“October -”

“OCTOBER 22ND!!” Dean shouted down Roman. “One year to the DAY that this happened -” he pointed to his repaired tricep - “Then YOU - “

“Whoa, whoa,” Roman’s extended arm started to wrap around Dean. “Both of those are kinda out of our - “

“It’s a FUCKING curse!!” Dean frothed. “Something goes wrong whenever we try to get back together!!” He started to struggle against Roman’s arm.  “Like we’re not allowed to be together!! That’s not how this works!! That’s not how ANY of this works~!!” 

“Dean-” Roman had to get his other arm around Ambrose.

“You pushed me AWAY after all that?” Seth asked, eyes wide.

“You were in the blast radius!  I Almost didn't come back! I was afraid You weren't coming back, Roman! and I couldn't hold that in! If anyone else was in that ring I'd have done the same thing to them! I pushed you away because the last thing we needed was two of us on the shelf!” 

Seth backed up. “I didn’t fight back, Dean. I knew you were upset but I didn’t realize - “

“It’s a fucking CURSE-” 

“DEAN!” Roman bellowed, startling his frenetic friend. “Look man, this was all coincidence. Scary coincidence, but there’s no way those two are linked. 

“But if they ARE, it just reinforces what I said on Monday. Tomorrow’s no guarantee. We’ve ALL had that. I kept my promise. Us bumping fists back in October wasn’t gonna be the last memory of the Shield. Tonight, WE are gonna fix that.”

Seth cautiously stepped forward. “Is that why you want to leave…?”

“Yes. No,” Dean started struggling again. “You know what-” 

Roman loosened his grip so Ambrose could get his hands up and though his hair. “Let’s not talk about that right now,” Roman’s low, calming baritone brought down the energy level of the room. “Dean, do what you have to do. I can’t stop you. I’ll miss you if you go. But you’re gonna call or text me every day until Mania. That goes for you too, Seth.

“Because we’ll always be brothers. Because we kept a promise to each other. Side by side, friends or enemies, we said we were gonna OWN this business. And we did that. So tonight, what say we have a little fun?” 

Dean didn’t have to turn around. He could hear the smile creeping up Roman’s face. He glanced up at Seth, whose wide brown eyes again showed that impossibly childlike wonder of what Roman had said. Dean’s shoulders slumped a little, Roman holding him up as Seth came in for an embrace. Dean sighed into it as Roman’s arms somehow wrapped around both his brothers. 

One last ride together. It wasn’t an end. It was a new beginning.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ".....ONE LAST MOTHERFUCKING TIME~!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All eyes to the road to Wrestlemania!

 

“Last night at Fastlane, the Shield Burned it down!” Seth said triumphantly to the Pittsburgh crowd. His heart still ached a little about the end of the Shield but he now had bigger issues. He’d been staring at the Wrestlemania sign through most of their farewell promo (Roman called him out on it) but now he had the ring to speak of his plans for taking down Lesnar once and for all.

Too bad Paul Heyman was actually in the building tonight and picked the “perfect time” to show up. The mic fell away from his mouth as the advocate recited his usual intro. The name wasn’t dropped immediately, as the Advocate personalized the intro with “...and MISTER Rollins’ conqueror in the main event of Wrestlemania…. BRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOCK!!! LESNARRRRRR!!!”

Rollins gave Paul a polite round of applause. “I like that, Paul, let me try that.” Seth grinned and tried to put some of that bass in his voice. “Brrrrrrrrrrrrock Lesnarrrrrrrr~!!” Mr. Heyman nodded in mild approval. “The Brock Lesnar that dominates his opponents, right? The guy that dominated the Big Show! He ran through Samoa Joe! Took Braun Strowman to Suplex City! Annihilated Bill Goldberg! That Brrock Lesnar!”

“I appreciate that you’re doing my schtick for me Mr. Rollins. But yes, Seth Rollins, THAT. BRRROCK. LESSSNARR.”

“The BRRROCK. LESSSNAR,” Seth mocked, “That had a real tough time getting by Daniel Bryan. The BRRROCK LESSSNAR that got pushed to the limit by the Phenomenal AJ Styles. The Brock Lesnar… that was  _ this close  _ to being beaten by Finn Balor.” Heyman didn’t have a retort ready. “That Brock Lesnar?”

“Yeah,” Heyman replied, a little defeated by the truth. “Touche.”

“Yeah, Yeah, you know it’s seems to me that your Beast has a problem with guys who are…” Seth glanced down at himself, “my size, my stature, of my speed and and quickness, my agility. And with all due respect, Finn Balor, AJ Styles, and Daniel Bryan are incredible in this ring!

“But there is only ONE man who’s uniquely suited to beat your client at Wrestlemania, and it’s Seth  _ Freakin’  _ Rollins!” 

The crowd rallied behind the Kingslayer. “Three weeks, Paul!” Seth challenged, “That’s all you got left, so run your mouth! Because I’m going to Wrestlemania, I’m taking the Universal Title off your Beast, and I’m bringing it back to Monday Night Raw! Every Single Week, Paul!”

“You know, um... “ Paul Heyman appeared surprisingly lost for words. Before he could get a thought out, the crowd erupted into a second “Slay the Beast!” chant, actually quelling him for a few seconds. Seth grinned from the ring, putting a hand to his ear to make sure Heyman could hear it. “Oh no, there’ll be no Slaying of the Beast! And not,” Heyman pitched his voice up, “With all due rethpect, Mr. Rollins-” then the bass and confidence came back. “You’re running down names, but you’re not telling the whole story! And people say  _ I’m  _ the manipulator!

“Why not tell the truth? Brock Lesnar had no time to prepare for any of  those opponents.” Seth shrugged and chuckled at Heyman’s backpedaling. “Oh you can shrug your shoulders all you want!”

“You’re making excuses, Paul!!” Seth taunted back, enjoying Paul Heyman tripping over his words. 

Heyman deflected to the booing crowd. “There is NO booing when Paul Heyman has a mic!” He turned back to Rollins. “It was supposed to be Brock Lesnar Versus Jinder Mahal! Then it became AJ Styles! Then when it was supposed to be Brock Lesnar versus AJ Styles, did we get that? No! It then became Daniel Bryan! It was supposed to be Brock Lesnar versus Braun Strowman but it  _ wasn’t  _ Brock Lesnar versus Braun Strowman, it was Brock Lesnar versus Finn Balor! 

“In every one of those cases, Brock had 5, 6, or Twelve days to prepare! Right? You sit there, ‘ _ with all due rethpect’,  _ you run your mouth like you know Brock Lesnar!”

Seth was cackling away as Heyman winded himself on his own verbal cartwheels. “You act like you’ve been introduced to Brock Lesnar more than the F5, F5, F5, F5, F5, and F5 that he punished you with! You want to meet my client? Allow me to introduce you to my client…”

Paul turned toward the entrance, pointing there a moment before raising his arm to the titantron. “BRRRRROCK LESSNARRR~!!”

Seth rolled his eyes as a short, generic video package played of Lesnar’s glimpses in WWE over the last few years. Seth didn’t really care; why should he? Seth Freakin’ Rollins had been carrying Monday Night Raw on his back, had reconciled with his brothers, made peace with Triple H, and now some part-timer who sits on a belt is supposed to scare him? He stifled a yawn before Heyman started talking again about nothing. 

“You think you know Brock Lesnar, Seth Rollins??” 

Seth would have taunted back if he wasn’t German suplexed back to the center of the ring. Stunned from the ambush, Seth got thrown around a little more before he could get a glimpse of the other man. 

It wasn’t Lesnar, but Heyman had secured a suitable substitute in Shelton Benjamin. The Advocate certainly approved before taking a seat at commentary.

Seth chose not to be angry about having a match. Heck, he’d never wrestled Shelton before. They’d missed each other in WWE and ROH, so no better time than the present to get some glimpses into how Lesnar would perform.  _ Lesnar wouldn’t do half this much work,  _ Rollins thought to himself as they traded holds and moves in the ring. 

As they fought, Seth’s mind started wrapping around Shelton’s change of style. Shelton used to be a technical guy with some high-flying for good measure, but had toned it down to a more mat-based power game, similar to Lesnar’s but with a few more moves than just suplexes and throws. Instinct kicked in for Seth when he ended up across Shelton’s shoulders. 

_ F-5?  _ Seth realized.  _ F No!  _

Shelton pushed Rollins off his shoulders, not getting enough rotation to drop the Architect. Seth landed on his feet.  _ If I can stand I can fight _ , his mind mantra’d as he caught Shelton with a kick.  _ If I can fight, I can slay the Beast!  _ He kicked Shelton again, dropping his opponent to one knee, 

_ And if I can stand, I can…. STOMP!  _

And Stomp Seth did, putting Shelton’s lights out. 

As Seth rolled clear, he spotted Heyman at the announce table, looking nonplussed at Shelton’s defeat. That glare felt very satisfying to the Architect. Technically, he’d won twice tonight: physically against Shelton, and psychologically against Paul Heyman for passing this “test”. 

\-------------------------------------------

 

Seth returned to the locker room in good spirits. He’d won his match, got a moment to talk to Finn before his Intercontinental title match, and planned on watching Roman’s first one-on-one match from Gorilla later on in the night. He hadn’t seen Dean on his way back, but that wasn’t unusual.  _ Bet his “business” had something to do with smuggling beer into the building.  _

Seth picked up his phone, finding a couple of texts. A handful were from some of the crew who passed along that Paul Heyman apparently spoke to Brock on the phone during the match and promised that Lesnar would be in the building next week. Seth nodded in anticipation for that. 

The other text from yet another number he didn’t recognize.

“Wrestlemania season. You need to up your intensity. What will that take?” 

Rollins frowned. What was wrong with his intensity when he fought Shelton? He didn’t bother to answer the text. The phone landed in his bag as he grabbed a clean change of clothes.

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Roman Reigns’ triumphant return to singles action didn’t quite work out the way the Big Dog expected. 

Baron Corbin didn’t show for his match; he’s likely the one who sent Drew McIntyre. The Scottish Terminator brutalized Reigns, heaving him head and shoulder first into the ringpost. Drew savored that feat before feeding Reigns a couple of solid Claymore kicks, banging Roman’s head off the ringpost a couple more times before officials could break things up. 

The big Samoan staggered to his feet, waving off the ringside EMT. Seth hurried out to help his brother, who stubbornly refused Seth’s help. “I’m not doin this out here, I’m fine,” Roman slurred.

“Hey hey hey hey hey-” Seth caught Roman to help him balance. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Come on.”

Roman stumbled away from Rollins, leaning on the guardwall. “Are you sure you’re ok? It’s cool to say you’re not cool, alright?” 

“He’s not checked out-” the ringside EMT tried to explain. Seth waved him off.

“I understand that. It’s fine.” He turned back to Roman.

“I just got a little headache, that’s it,” Roman tried to explain as he continued to stumble toward the ramp. Alarm bells started ringing in Seth’s mind; when a  _ Samoan says he has a headache _ , that’s bad news. He helped Roman to the back as much as Roman would let him. 

Dean met them on the other side of the curtain. “Damn coward,” he growled as he instinctively stood to Roman’s right, while Seth held him up from the left. Roman continued to protest, verbally, that he didn’t want or need to be checked. 

“Come on, just want want you to get checked out. Trust me, please.” Seth urged. “Just trust me on this, please?”

“Just check it out, man!” Dean barked as he held the trainer’s room door open. 

Seth continued to coax Roman into the trainer’s room. “Just get checked out. Please. For me.”

Reigns finally relented and Seth followed him in. Dean let the door close behind them. He had to dish out some payback for this.

\----------------------------------------

 

“Ok, that didn’t quite work out how I pictured it in my head….”

Seth just kept shaking his head as he dragged Dean Ambrose to the trainer’s room. “Roman got checked out, YOU’RE getting checked out.”

“I’m already half checked-out, man…” Dean’s joke had no punch to it.

Seth wasn’t in the mood to laugh.“Well, I shoulda known you’d try this. Hopefully you left some for me.”

“Show’s over, man…” Dean grumbled.

“That’s what next week is for,” Seth replied without missing a beat. He threw Dean into the trainer’s room like a pile of dirty clothes and went back to his locker room.  _ Dean still cracked jokes, he’ll be okay.  _

Another text message flashed on his phone when he pulled it out of his gear bag. 

“Intense enough for you yet?” The message read simply. 

Seth groaned and stuffed the phone in his back pocket. He didn’t have time for this crypto-bullcrap. He’d call Hunter in the morning. 

His brothers deserved to be avenged. And Brock might not show up to do anything but let Heyman talk.


	7. Raw 3/18/19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge is a chair swing away.

 

Raw 3/18

 

“Seth Rollins is the one who Necessitated an appearance by Brock Lesnar.”

 

Paul Heyman didn’t approve of being called out, and even less so when his client calls back in the middle of the show. Last week’s phone call caught Heyman off-guard. Planning the trip on short notice was never a favorite activity of Heyman’s and would have blown it off altogether if Triple H also requested Brock’s presence. Thus the Advocate was less in a stellar mood as he poked holes in Seth’s argument about how smaller guys with better agility stood a chance against the Beast! 

 

“Seth Rollins is a revisionist! He is a ‘burn down Suplex City’ Arsonist! He is a master at weaving a tale of Shakespearean - no wait, bigger than Shakespearean - of Heyman-level proportions and propaganda! 

 

“Now Seth Rollins comes out here! He has something to say to Brock Lesnar on the same night he has a fight with Drew McIntyre?? Drew McIntyre is a Career Killer! Not THE Career Killer as Brock Lesnar, but one nonetheless! Last week, Drew McIntyre got one up on Roman Reigns! Then, Drew McIntyre got one up on Dean Ambrose! So now Seth Rollins, 20 days from fighting for the title against Brock Lesnar and for his very LIFE, wants to Fight Drew McIntyre? WHAT ARE YOU THINKING, SETH ROLLINS???” 

 

Heyman would have been happy to elaborate if his voice were not drowned out by the blare of bagpipes and the marching of drums. Befitting anthem for the imposing figure of the “Scottish Terminator”, Drew McIntyre. He stroke out in a studded black coat, raven black hair cascading down his back and face locked in a perpetual scowl.

 

“Well. Well. Well,” McIntyre began purposefully. “It’s refreshing to finally get the respect I earned in WWE!” He glared to the negative crowd. “Chicago! When I’m talking you close your mouths and open your damn ears!” His attentions returned to Heyman. “You’re looking at the man who last week brutalized Roman Reigns! And then, when Dean Ambrose tried to come save his fallen brother, I brutalized him too! 

 

“Now Brock, I strongly suggest you ask your advocate to find another opponent for the Universal Championship at Wrestlemania because after tonight,” Drew pointed to the ramp and the ring, “after I brutalize Seth Rollins, I assure you that he’s not gonna make Wrestlemania!”

 

Drew’s further bragging halted with a chair slamming flush into his back. He staggered a few steps, wheeling to face his attacker. 

 

The BeastSlayer had arrived. Seth Rollins brandished the chair, daring Drew to charge. The Scottsman lunged, the point of the chair sinking deep into McIntyre’s midsection and dropping him to a knee. 

 

Rollins reared back with his chosen weapon, deja vu striking him. He’s done this before; the last time, it was striking down two men who were his brothers, all in the name of getting a chance to climb the mountain and be champion, taking the two who helped him there out of the way. A moment that haunted him some nights, that first blow to Roman’s back as he fell into the ropes. The helpless, lost look in Dean’s pale blue eyes at suddenly seeing his life come apart before that chair caved in his stomach and dropping him to the ground, only for Seth to Swing. And swing, and swing. And Swing. Harder, Harder, Harder still. Hard enough that the metal of the chair bent around Dean’s exposed back, and one to Roman to make sure he couldn’t get up.

 

Hard enough to wrap this chair around Drew McIntyre’s back. Seth’s swings had much more power and speed behind them now. They weren’t at his brothers for a personal agenda or to prove himself to someone in a suit. These were FOR his brothers, struck down by a new force in their Yard! He ignored the orders of the referees and agents as he swing harder and faster, Dean’s and Roman’s names alternating in his head as each blow landed. He threw in a 13th chair shot just for Dean. 

 

He flipped his hair back and glowered on the ring, where Lesnar and Heyman could only stare. Rollins’ focus locked on the Beast, the cold metal of the chair begging for more. The “burn it down!” chants from the crowd on the ramp - even from fans who normally backed  _ Lesnar -  _ urged him forward, leaping to the apron and climbing in with zero hesitation and full purpose of wrapping said chair around Lesnar.  _ This is what Roman would do,  _ he thought as he continued to brandish the chair. Heyman had already left the ring. Lesnar reluctantly followed and Seth followed the champion all the way to the ropes. Seth refused to take his eyes off the Beast as he retreated. 

 

Satisfied for now, Seth casually tossed the mangled chair over his shoulder. The message delivered. Now he’d have to re-word it for McIntyre later that evening.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Returning to the back felt bittersweet for the Architect. Roman nor Dean were in the building tonight, both still smarting a bit from McIntyre’s rampage. Seth still felt a little surprised that Dean didn’t show up anyway; Dean spoke of “other business” and deliberately kept it vague, even to his brothers. Hopefully the incessant buzzing of Rollins’ phone meant that Dean or Roman saw what happened.

 

Another new number. Rollins rolled his eyes and opened the message.

 

“That looked familiar… putting the fire back in the ‘burn it down’. Keep it up! Too bad your brothers aren’t there.”

 

Still no clue who sent it. Still no clue if it’s just one person. If it WAS just one person, they knew how to spoof numbers. Or buy a bunch of throwaway phones. Seth decided not to answer; he texted two numbers he knew. 

 

“Where u @?” he typed to his recovering brothers. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

“It’s pretty simple. You hurt my brothers, you better be prepared to get hurt!”

 

Seth’s interview wouldn’t have anything new for Drew or Brock, just re-stating something that he held to his heart for almost two years… maybe, even deeper down, for much longer. It didn’t matter if the Shield weren’t “officially” together. Even when they were apart, they would help each other. Roman would help either one of them, regardless. Dean could be stubborn but in the heat of the moment would back Seth before anyone else.

 

“If I gotta wear out Drew McIntyre with a steel chair all night long,” he danced his head back and forth. “So be it. Tonight is for Dean. Tonight is for Roman, and tonight’s … kinda for Brock Lesnar, too. I hope he’s watching my match with Drew later tonight. I’m not gonna be pushed around! Not by Brock Lesnar, not by Drew McIntyre, and I’m not afraid to fight Fire with Fire! Drew’s gonna see that tonight, and Brock’s gonna find out about it at Wrestlemania, when I burn Suplex City straight. to. the. Ground.” He strode off with a smirk, not hearing his phone buzzing in his gear bag.

\----------------------------------------

 

Drew McIntyre savored the replay of what he had done to Roman Reigns the previous week. He’d given the big Samoan a “headache” that kept him home with his family. He followed it up by using Dean Ambrose’s favorite match against the Lunatic. Seth had no backup. McIntyre didn’t need backup.

 

He also knew how to press three buttons at once when it came to the Shield. He derided Rollins for attacking him from behind. He taunted Roman as “Joe the man on his couch with his family” and DARED him to face off at Mania. He promised that what he did to Roman the previous week would be nothing compared to the beatdown on the Grandest Stage! He promised it would be worse than anything he had done to Dean! He dared mention Roman’s Leukemia on the air! Seth had heard enough and strong-armed a cameraman to put him on the big screen from Gorilla.

 

“That, RIGHT THERE,” Seth snarled at the Scottish Terminator, “is why I did what I did to you earlier tonight, Drew!” they replayed the assault from the beginning of the show. Seth took no pleasure or satisfaction from it. “THAT, was for my brothers. This… THIS IS FOR ME!” 

 

He didn’t hear his own music. The two clashed on the ramp, prompting the referees and agents to at least get them to the ring and make it an actual match.

 

Seth did make it to the ring first, Drew eventually catching up. What followed for Rollins was a master class in what to do and NOT do against a larger, stronger opponent. Most of his high-flying offense would be out the window. Power for power wouldn’t work without leverage. Seth knew he had a good ground game, but going against someone with ameteur wrestling and MMA training wouldn’t match well. Speed is his major advantage; so the rest would have to be accuracy, agility and…

 

Adrenaline. The rally almost put Drew away. He’d put Drew on his heels with suicide dives and a Sling Blade, only to be pancaked by an Alabama Slam. They duelled on the top turnbuckle. Seth thrown clear once, only for that adrenaline to kick in again. He superplexed the larger opponent, blocked a suplex reverse into a Falcon Arrow. Drew was reeling and only kicking out on instinct. 

 

_ This is it!  _ Seth’s already wide brown eyes grew wider as he kicked away at McIntyre, preparing to Stomp that Glasgow melon into the mat.

 

The kean of Lesnar’s music slowed Rollins’ frenzy. More adrenaline coursing through his system. He saw Lesnar and Heyman emerge from the back, the Beast happily handing over his belt as a sign he would be approaching the ring. Seth wanted to fight them both at once. He glanced back only once, choosing Lesnar and DEMANDING the Beast come to the ring, never mind waiting until Mania! 

 

Seth’s adrenaline wanted Lesnar. His heart wanted Lesnar. His brain reminded him about McIntyre about one Claymore kick too late. He’d failed.

 

He could hear Drew taunting over the booing. He saw Heyman and Lesnar laughing at him on the ramp. He tried to stand, refusing to go out this way. Not in Chicago. Not in front of fans that deserve better. 

 

Heyman and Lesnar walked backstage without another word. Drew left Rollins to further humiliation as Baron Corbin hit the ring to put the finishing touches on Rollins to make sure he wouldn’t be around next week. Any other time, Seth knew he could wrestle circles around the former Constable. The loss and the mocking had taken its toll. All he could do is cover up and hope Corbin would just go away.

 

Music started up again. Seth’s mind was so addled from the last few minutes he didn’t recognize it. A motorcycle? A guitar riff? A chainsaw. One of those.

 

Dean. Seth rolled to the ropes just as his friend hit the ring and buried Corbin with Dirty Deeds. Ambrose then helped his buddy up.

 

“Where’ve you been?” Rollins asked between breaths.

 

Dean smirked and shrugged. “Surprise,” He said simply before giving his brother room to Stomp Corbin and celebrate with the Chicago crowd.

 

\----------------------------------------------


	8. Raw 3/25/19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A war of words between Seth and Paul Heyman.

 

Raw 3/25/19

 

Seth needed the love of the Boston crowd to wash a sour taste out of his mouth. Sure, Mania was two weeks away and his brothers would both be there. He knew that Roman would face Drew McIntyre and Dean wouldn’t miss Mania for anything. Thus Seth’s frustration when he found this on his phone after being surprised by Dean in Chicago:

“can that fire burn without your brothers? Can it burn for much longer?? Clock is ticking.”

At least this week’s came from the same number.

This week’s message: “Is there any fire left?”

Seth didn’t have to demonstrate to anyone how fired up (hah haah) he was about Mania. Brock didn’t show up again, so Seth would be stuck talking… again.  _ It’s a living. _

The crowd sparked some pride in him when they couldn’t decide on “Slay the Beast!” or “Burn it Down!” to chant for him once he hit the ring. He didn’t know if he could smile any broader. He’d needed that smile to perk him up from seeing Roman get into it with Drew again and Dean choosing to take another swipe at the Scottish Psycho.

He soaked in the chants a few moments more before raising the mic. “Gonna cut right to the chase here, Brock Lesnar and I are NOT cut from the same cloth! And the two roads we are taking to Wrestlemania could not be any different.” His eyes and outstretched hand pointed to the red and gold logo hanging in the rafters. “But there’s only ONE road out of that Wrestlemania match and that road will be forged by the Universal Champion! It will be forged by the man who will define the FUTURE of our business! And that’s either gonna be me... “ Seth’s enthusiasm strangely faded. “Or it’s gonna be Brock Lesnar.”

The crowd booed accordingly. “That is really heavy,” he continued, “But let me tell you guys, I WANT that weight! I want to carry that burden because I wanna be a champion that inspires people!” His voice grew bolder. “When I was a kid watching WWE, the champions that inspired me were guys like ‘The Heartbreak Kid’ Shawn Michaels and Bret ‘The Hitman’ Hart! ‘Nature Boy’ Ric Flair!” 

The crowd gave the obligatory “Woooo~!”

“Hell, Triple H, even John Cena inspires people! But you know something? Brock Lesnar does NOT inspire people. And it goes without saying, this match… this match is the biggest match of my entire career. And I know how important it was to me, for a long long time, but until recently, I didn’t realize how important this match was to all of you.” He gestured broadly to the audience, retelling of all of the fans he’d met in recent weeks, all with the same message to him: he HAD to slay the Beast! He HAD to take out Brock Lesnar! Deep down he remembered the mood around the locker room when Roman had finally taken the title from Brock and how excited the crowds became that the Universal title would actually be on TV. It was a good couple of months.

“So now I don’t feel like I have a choice,” Rollins resigned, “Now, I HAVE to beat Brock Lesnar!” He steeled. “I have to beat Brock because I refuse to let him define the future of this industry! I can NOT let that happen!

“So in 13 days at Wrestlemania, I’m gonna walk to that ring, I’m gonna get in there with Lesnar, that bully - a bully that’s cast a shadow over me, over this entire industry! 

“What Brock Lesnar does not understand, is that with an ARMY behind me,” He pointed around to the entire crowd, who roared in response. “I am UNSTOPPABLE! Together we’re gonna march to the gates of Suplex City and we’re gonna BURN! IT! - “

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” the abrupt interruption did catch Seth off-guard, but for only a moment. He already knew who it was, and wished he could fast-forward to the meaningful part of Paul Heyman’s speech.

“Thank you for letting me know that the Universal Championship match at Wrestlemania is now a handicap match,” he trolled. “You’re pathetic! Oh you need their  _ love,  _ you need their  _ support,  _ what next? I know your generation - are you gonna ask for  _ Thoughts and prayers?”  _ Paul milked that phrase, each time an irritating poke at Seth Rollins. “So now you have the WWE Universe to fail with you when you come to Suplex City, get dumped on your head, get F-5’d, get victimized and conquered by Brock Lesnar,” Heyman rolled his eyes almost audibly to the crowd. “He’ll  _ need  _ your Thoughts and Prayers.

“Seth Rollins, you don’t have a Thought in your head to how you could beat Brock Lesnar, and you don’t have a Prayer in doing so,” Heyman carefully spelled out for the Architect if the last thousand words didn’t explain it. 

“Don’t take it personally when Brock Lesnar wins at Wrestlemania,” He taunted in conclusion, “I want you to take it personally when you and the entire WWE Universe LOSES at Wrestlemania!” The advocate threw his mic at the ring and marched off. 

Rollins watched Heyman waddle up the ramp.  _ He’s not getting the last word THIS time,  _ Seth determined as he hopped out of the ring and marched after Lesnar’s mouthpiece. His dark eyes intently focused on the mouthy man in a suit, perhaps burning a hole in his back enough to get Heyman to turn around. 

Heyman’s eyes bugged out as Seth closed in. He knew he couldn’t outrun the infamous “crossfit Jesus” who shrugs off long matches as warm-ups. Stumbling backwards, Heyman nearly turned turtle on his back, screaming for mercy without actually using that term. “I’m an Advocate! I’m an Advocate!! I’m sorry!! I hope you win!!! Brock told me to say all that!!” each plea coming faster than the last.

Seth threw back his head and laughed, still being picked up by the mic in his hand. So satisfying to see Paul Heyman squealing and crying for his life because he left his Fighting Pokemon at home! 

“Paul, you’ve got it all wrong,” no humor to the Kingslayer’s voice. “I’m not asking for Thoughts and Prayers.” He took a step closer. “I’m here to  _ Answer _ them. Because WE are going to Wrestlemania! WE are gonna beat Brock Lesnar! WE are gonna take the Universal Title! And WE are going to march into Suplex City and WE are gonna - “ His mic raised like a Liberty torch to allow 10,000+ to finish the statement.

“BURN! IT! DOWN!” 

Seth looked all the way down at Paul Heyman before letting the mic drop. It bounced and poked Heyman in the mouth. Rollins left without another word spoken.

\----------------------------------

 

Seth strode through backstage to high fives and applause. “MAN that felt great!” he shouted to the stagehands as he swaggered his way back to the locker room. He would have preferred putting his fist in Heyman’s mouth, but shutting him up is shutting him up. Brock would be there next week and Rollins felt ready for that, too. “The rest of this week,” he said to himself, “Black and Brave, Crossfit and Coffee, and Deadman fitness. I’ll sleep maybe Thursday before we get back on the road.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he finally arrived at his locker room to put on something a little more comfortable since he was done for the night. 

As usual, his phone was flashing. Seth hoped it was a call from the School or the Coffee shop wondering if he would actually have free time this week. He groaned when yet another random number appeared by a text. Shaking his head in frustration, he opened the message.

“No matter how many voices chant for you, you are ALONE in that ring with Brock,” it read. This time he chose to reply.

“70,000 voices should keep you quiet,” he typed quickly and hit ‘send’. He put the phone down and rummaged through his bag for a clean change of clothes to travel in. The phone buzzed as he rummaged through the bag. Flustered, he picked up the phone again. At least it was from the same number.

“70,000 hearts and hands can’t save you from Lesnar. They cannot save you. You can’t even save yourself. Save yourself.”

Seth threw his phone in his bag at the taunt.

 

\-------------------------------------------


	9. Just before Mania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April Fool's day, but who is being pranked here?

 

4/1/2019

 

Tonight already felt like an April Fool’s joke for Seth Rollins.

 

Dean Ambrose wasn’t there and Brock Lesnar was.  _ Hardly a fair trade,  _ he thought as he watched Lesnar and Heyman march proudly to the ring, the hatred raining down on them both. Seth crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, knowing he won’t get the next ten minutes of his life back from this.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Heyman playfully began, “My name is Paul Heyman, and I am the advocate - “ he interrupted himself since no one else would - “And I will be saying this next Monday as well, for the REIGNING, DEFENDING, UNDISPUTED, UNIVERSAL HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION -  **_BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROCK LEEEESSNAR~!!!”_ **

Seth mentally recited along, then just frowned deeper. He wanted to just march out there and punch Heyman in the mouth. He’d have to punch Lesnar first, and it’d take more than one punch to put the current champ down.

“I find it almost poetic justice,” Heyman continued, “that Stephanie McMahon just came out here and use the phrase, ‘winner take all’, when she spoke of the Womens’ championship triple threat match. Because if you really wanna describe the Universal Title match at Wrestlemania, the  _ winner,”  _ Paul E emphasized with a few pokes to his client, “will take all, this Sunday. The winner, Brock Lesnar,” again he pointed to his client for emphasis, “will take all that Seth Rollins has to offer! Brock Lesnar will take Seth Rollins’ best shot! Because we know that Seth Rollins is coming with his best shot! We’re expecting Seth Rollins to come with nothing less. 

“But then what, Seth? Brock Lesnar will take everything Seth Rollins has in life. Because that’s what Brock Lesnar does to people at Wrestlemania!” 

The crowd started to protest. Seth’s hands started to itch. 

“Brock Lesnar seizes the moment at Wrestlemania and defines his legacy and his own history at the expense of his opponents!” Heyman bragged. “Brock Lesnar took the Streak from the Undertaker at Wrestlemania!” 

Again the crowd protested. Seth bit his tongue.  _ No one should have broken that Streak. Roman wasn’t even proud of his victory.  _

“Last year Brock Lesnar TOOK the hopes and the dreams of Roman Reigns when you all thought it was his time to dethrone Brock Lesnar! F-5, 1, 2, 3!” Heyman reminded everyone.  _ They also got Roman’s blood on their hands,  _ Rollins mentally added, smoldering as Heyman rambled on.

“And this Sunday at Wrestlemania, Brock Lesnar will TAKE Seth Rollins at Seth Rollins’ own words when Seth Rollins said that Wrestlemania may be the last match of Seth Rollins’ career! There will be no ‘maybe’ about it! Seth Rollins Did not just give you a prediction, he gave you a  _ spoiler!  _ Because this Sunday, Brock Lesnar will end Seth Rollins’ career! 

“For those of you,” Heyman raised a hand to make sure everyone continued to pay attention, “For those of you who watch Hockey for the fights, for those of you who watch NASCAR for the car wrecks, for those of you who watch football for the riots! This Sunday, Brock Lesnar will VIOLATE Seth Rollins - “

Seth winced.  _ Thought this was a PG show… _

Heyman never cared about the show rating. “ - and DESECRATE the good name of Wrestlemania!” 

Brock took that as a cue to remove the red leather belt from around his waist and hold it up in pre-emptive victory. Seth’s patience had almost run out. Now he knew how Dean felt about talk segments in general.

“And then,” Heyman concluded as he tried to speak over the rebellious crowd, “when Brock Lesnar’s foot is on Seth Rollins’ chest, and the title over Brock Lesnar’s head again, Brock Lesnar will define the saying ‘life is not what you want it to be,’ Seth!  Life is what you make out of it. Because then Brock Lesnar and I will simply go out to dinner and discuss what’s next in the career of Brock Lesnar. Because Seth Rollins, I’ll tell you this in advance - you’re just an afterthought to Brock Lesnar!”

That punch in the ego more than enough for the Architect. His music blared to silence Paul. Seth wasn’t listening, didn’t stop to pose for the DC faithful, couldn’t even crack a smile. Heyman’s ego as well as Lesnar’s remained a sticking point for Seth and he just couldn’t stand listening to it anymore. Heyman exited the ring as Seth entered, the Kingslayer looking off Brock as he gathered a microphone for a proper rebuttal. Lesnar didn’t budge, but all he had in his hand was the title that Rollins wanted to take back. For himself. For Roman. For everyone who came to work every week and twice on weekends. 

“This is the biggest match of my career,” Seth agreed, “but what you don’t understand Brock is that it’s also the biggest match of YOUR Career.”

This amused Lesnar chuckled, almost nonplussed at Seth’s bravado.

“Because after Wrestlemania everything changes for you!" Seth declared. "You can’t just waltz in here, push people around, make demands like the big bully you are, no no no! 

“What you don’t understand, man,” Seth brought his intensity up. “Nobody wants you here.” The crowd exploded in approval. 

“I don’t want you here! The locker room doesn’t want you here!” he pointed around to the crowd, “These people are sick and tired of Brock Lesnar!”

This brought actual laughter from the Beast as the “Burn it down!” chants began once more in earnest.  “Yeah, laugh it up, big boy,” Seth taunted, “I know you don’t give a damn! I know you don’t give a damn about what anybody wants but you.” The disgust palpable in Rollins’ voice. 

“You know what?” The Architect admitted, “you made a lot of money, you made a hell of a career out of being Brock Lesnar. Because you are  _ so  _ big, you’re  _ so  _ strong, you’re so  _ smart -  _ and you are the most decorated athlete in sports combat history.” Polite applause followed. But that was the only compliment Seth would allow himself, as his eyes steeled on Lesnar himself.

“And me beating you at Wrestlemania…” Seth dared a glance up at the logo hanging in the rafters, “it may be improbable, but it’s not  _ impossible. _

“This Sunday, Brock, I’m going to BEAT you! I’m gonna take YOUR title!” He took a simple step forward. “And there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”

“Oh what a funny guy!!” Heyman shouted, still heard despite the lack of microphone. Lesnar had heard enough and shouldered past Rollins to get a head start on traffic. Seth refused such disrespect, wheeled Lesnar around and kicked him in the balls as hard as he possibly could. Staggered but not completely down, Lesnar resisted the flurry of punches and threw Seth across the ring despite the bruised pride. Seth couldn’t get the full rotation to land on his feet but quickly got back to all fours. The Beast scooped him up for an F-5 that the Kingslayer had zero interest in taking. He wriggled free and landed behind Lesnar, stalling him again with another shot to the groin, stunning Lesnar long enough for Rollins to get to his feet.

_ If I can stand…  _ he lunged and kicked Lesnar in the side of the face.  _ I can fight. And if I can fight… _

Brock barely made it back to his hands and knees.

_ If I can fight,  _ Rollins repeated in his mind,  _ I can STOMP!  _

And stomp he did, flattening Lesnar and hefting the Universal title over his head, roaring down at the prone Beast. The cheers only got louder before Seth left the ring to let Heyman’s pet pokemon nurse its sore manhood. He marched back up the ramp, never looking back.

Seth could only relax once he was back through Gorilla and heading to his locker room.  _ MAN, that felt good!  _ He savored the image of Lesnar convulsing on the mat, surprised that Seth had the accuracy to hit something that small (hah hah haah). He tugged absently at his wrist guards as the inevitable microphone appeared.

“Seth, Excuse me,” Charly Caruso closed in curiously, “but if you do what you just did to Brock Lesnar on Sunday you’re gonna be disqualified and you’re - you’re not gonna become champion.”

Seth playfully rocked his head back and forth, sorry but NOT sorry for what he had done. “Ehhh, yeah, well he had it coming anyway.” He shrugged of the attacks much like Dean would do. “Besides, I’m not a champion.” He stepped away from Charly, but would never leave her hanging.  He peeked back in frame. 

“YET,” he added with a smirk before trotting off to his locker room.

There, as expected, his phone buzzed and flashed. “Wonder what mystery texter wants from me now.” He picked up the phone, recognizing the number immediately.

“Hope one of those nutshots was for me and another for Roman,” Dean Ambrose messaged. “Next time, use a kendo stick or a metal pipe.” Seth chuckled.

But there were a few texts, coming in from the various numbers that had harassed him for the last couple of months. All of them had one word.

“Sunday.”

Seth took one final, VERY deep breath, still unsure who was doing this or why. But at least now he can take that one word as a reminder of what was ahead of him. This is what his 10+ career would culminate. This would be bigger than the Money in the Bank cash-in. Is it worth selling his soul? He had six days to find out.

 


	10. WRESTLEMANIA 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day had finally come. Seth now had to face the Beast at the Grandest stage of them all.

 

Seth felt like he was checking his phone every five, ten, fifteen minutes since he arrived at the building. He texted some of the numbers that sent the “Sunday” message to see which one had the buyer of his soul. No one responded.

Had he made a mistake on Monday? Maybe he should have responded sooner and the deal was off the table.  He probably should have nut-shotted Paul, too. A mic to the mouth wasn’t going to keep him quiet and probably didn’t help his mood one bit. Seth had seen Paul E storming about the backstage area, demanding to talk to Triple H or Vince himself about the evening. Wonder what he’d heard.

“Look who’s fretting now,” Seth cackled at the advocate who stormed past him for the fourth or fifth time. “So when’s the bargaining going to start, huh?”

“‘Bargaining’?” Heyman repeated with disdain. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Seth held up his phone. “This ring any bells?” He taunted.

“I have had ZERO reason to contact you on ANY matter pertaining to my client. However, if you so much as lay a hand on me between now and that match you can consider the match FORFEIT! I will take that complaint to Mr. McMahon and I don’t care how much his son-in-law loves you, YOU will not get the match that the WWE Universe is clamoring for!”

“So it wasn’t you?” Seth looked at his phone again.

“I recall you stating something about ‘selling your soul to the devil’,” Paul theorized. “However, you can’t sell something you already gave gift-wrapped to Triple H about five years ago!”

That rankled Seth and wiped the smile off his face. “Hey~!”

Heyman shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure you could trick someone into buying nothing. Have you tried Craigslist?”

“Hey, Hey!! I was just asking you a question!” Seth did raise a fist, sending the Advocate backpedaling. Seth closed in with the huge grin returning to his face. “Maybe Triple H DOES still have my soul, or I won it back a couple of Wrestlemanias ago. Looks like I don’t HAVE to sell it to you!”

Heyman’s face contorted and darkened, almost to its own rousing shade of purple. He opened his mouth to answer, only for his own phone to start beeping. He showed the display to Seth, confirming that his client Brock Lesnar was a much more important person to speak to. He hurried off, Seth hearing a lot of scared gratitude in Heyman’s voice.

“So if it wasn’t him…” Seth pondered out loud, “Who was it?”

“Something on your mind, compadre?” A hand fell on Seth’s right shoulder, making him jump.

He wheeled to face the familiar voice, the road-worn voice of his longtime friend Dean Ambrose. “Scared? Man, Roman was right, you get a BAD case of nerves when it’s Wrestlemania.”

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Dean, you’ve messed with my mind enough ON camera, have you been texting me weird crap about selling my soul?”

“I just texted you last week about that aimed shot at Lesnar’s balls. Do that again, I won’t have to watch anything else tonight. And what’s this about selling your soul? Thought you already did that - “

“Paul Heyman already made that same joke,” Seth interrupted Dean in exasperation. “It’s not Triple H, and I should have guessed it wasn’t you. This isn’t your idea of a prank.”

“Someone wants your soul?”

“Someone,” Seth shrugged, “Wanted to take me up on my offer to sell it. Never did meet anyone but I kept getting texts about it from a buncha random numbers.”

“Didja call any of em back?” Dean gave his little brother a side-eye. “You coulda made some money off it, though I know your shirts are selling bigtime.”

Seth stared at Dean, then stared at the phone. “No.”

“Guess the Mystery lingers!” Dean declared. “Good luck tonight. Stomp Lesnar once for me.”

Dean ambled off. Seth felt even stupider looking at his phone. 

\--------------------------------------

 

Roman Reigns knew he had plenty of time to check on his “little brother” before either of their matches. The big Samoan hadn’t started getting dressed for his match yet but knew for sure that Seth would be prepping even if his match was even later in the show than Roman’s. Dean had confirmed to Reigns that poor Seth still had a bad case of Wrestlemania jitters and probably needed one more vote of confidence. And just because he knew about Seth’s jitters he made sure to pound hard on Seth’s locker room door. “You in there, ‘champ’?”

His ear caught the sound of a yelp and a bunch of stuff dropping to the floor. Roman just kept grinning as the door flung open and Seth glowered out, expecting to see Dean. He couldn’t stay angry with Roman standing there, so he allowed himself a relieved laugh before letting his big brother inside.

“Can’t believe this is finally happening,” Seth’s nerves and excitement still uncontained. “Finally, FINALLY getting my hands on Brock.”

“Looking forward to it,” Roman added. “If anyone can make Brock actually work it’s you. Last guy who got anything out of Lesnar was AJ Styles.”

“Aw come on, man, your match with him at Summerslam-”

“Would have been abandoned outright at the time if Strowman hadn’t come down,” Reigns interrupted. “A lot changes in six months. Beginning of the year you really didn’t have anyone watching your back.”

Seth nodded. “I’m just glad you’re here. I know you’re just glad to be here this year.”

“Anything that happens for me in this business from here is gravy. Tonight’s YOUR night, not mine.”

Seth frowned when he heard Hulk Hogan’s music playing. “Are you sure?”

“There’s NO way they’re gonna let him stand out there for 20+ minutes and forget where he is. Alexa Bliss is out there too and -”

Both jumped as the locker room door sprung open, a winded stagehand standing there, eyes wide. “Seth! Get to Gorilla, Paul Heyman’s in the ring!”

Roman reached in the spilled contents of Seth’s bag and tossed him a top. “Here. Go!” 

Seth sprinted off, leaving the stagehand in the dust. He could hear Hogan’s music tapering off and Heyman’s furious voice echoing through all of East Rutherford.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Paul Heyman ignored Hulk Hogan. That was nothing new.

Paul Heyman ignored Alexa Bliss. Maybe he wasn’t in the mood.

He stomped and huffed to the ring, expression only getting angrier as he climbed into the ring and demanded a microphone. 

“WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG!!!!” Heyman declared to a startled audience. “If my client is not on LAST, then we’re not hanging around here all night to wait!” 

Seth continued to struggle with the costume top as he galloped through the bowels of the arena. Why the hell was Heyman out there? What was his beef about letting history happen? Has the man who once innovated an entire movement in wrestling really become so short-sighted that he can’t - 

_ Wait, nevermind, this is Brock’s idea, not Paul Heyman’s.  _ Though Seth did consider this as a ploy to throw Seth completely off his game. That only made Seth angrier. And faster.

“We’re getting our business done!” Heyman declared, “And we’re getting on a jet to Las Vegas where my client is Ultimately appreciated!” His choice of words deliberate, not lost on an informed crowd. “So let’s get this nonsense over with! We’re doing it right here, RIGHT NOW!” 

The crowd cheered tentatively; they were watching for the bait and switch as the angry Advocate’s face could not get any redder. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Introducing at 265 pounds, the Rollins-stomping BeastSlayer’s Slayer, the REIGNING! DEFENDING! UNDISPUTED! UNIVERSAL HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!!  **_BRRRRROCK~!!! LESSSNAR!!”_ **

Heyman’s voice cracked on the name as the otherworldly opening notes of Brock’s impending arrival drowned out anything else the Advocate would have said. Seth was almost to Gorilla, hastily checking his top and pouring water over his head to slick down his hair. He glanced at a monitor as he threw the empty water bottle over his shoulder, spotting the Beast indeed walking down the ramp with the Universal title around his waist.

This was the whole reason why Seth was running now. The whole reason he fought anyone and everyone for the last 18 months. For giving his body and soul for a solid hour. For wanting to put the show on his back when Dean was hurt and Roman was sick. For wanting to get back to where he once was, just a little over four years ago. That belt did not belong around the waist of a man who chose when to show up, if he actually wanted to wrestle, and was apparently allergic to microphones. That’s not the champion that anyone in that locker room admired. They knew what it took just to get in the door. Seth knew what he had given up over the last year - hell, the last DECADE plus- for this moment. What happened four years ago was a rush he will never forget, the well-named “Heist of the Century”. This time, he ran to the ramp for a reason. He ran to that ramp because HE would be the champion this company wanted, the champion this company needed, the champion that his Brothers Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns made him. 

The first title was just for Seth. This one was for everybody else.

The lights in the stadium slowly turned off, letting the march of Lesnar’s music fade. Heyman remained in the ring, holding up the title in defiance of the goings-on around him. Lesnar turned to the ramp as the jumbotron flickered in red, displaying shadowy versions of his monstrous back tattoo. In the center a three-dimensional version appeared, eyes glowing a fearsome blood red back at its originator. A familiar note of his music, slowed and darkened, keened over the speakers in warning, only inciting the crowd’s anticipation. 

Through the center of that image a reddish-purple blade descended, a simple leather-wrapped guard and a pommel etched with Rollins’ “SR Target Acquired” logo. The sword swung sharply upward, splitting the monster’s head clean in half. The screen erupted in flames, a second white-hot blade crossing the screen horizontally, the title “BEAST SLAYER” cast over it in letters still glowing like molten, half-forged metal. Other giant monitors around the stadium repeated that title, Seth’s logo centered or surrounding the new moniker given to him almost immediately after the Royal Rumble. 

Now Seth’s march of music began, the crowd only roaring louder. He was barely in position when the crowd exploded.

**“BURN IT DOWN~!!!”**

80,000 voices shouting a battlecry, an order, a demand that had more meaning now than it ever had since it was added to his music. He emerged onto the stage, battered by the thunder of his music and the cacophony of the crowd. Seth could barely keep his footing in this clash of ceremony and electricity, a rush that would have knocked him on his back four years ago. This time, even while still unsteady from the mad dash to his position and the rush to be properly dressed for it, he was ready. More ready than he’d ever thought he’d be, to make that march down that long ramp and face down the man who has held the Universal title for ransom on and off for nearly three years. A title abdicated by a true King like Roman Reigns. A title that slipped away from him for being only one step behind the Demon King Finn Balor. A title that needed a hero to hold it, for Brock Lesnar was no King and certainly no hero.

That hero was Seth Rollins. 

And Brock, the unworthy coward that he was, kneed Seth off the ring apron before the match could properly begin. He rained down knees and fists, keeping Rollins off his feet and on defense. Brock threw Seth into the barricade, shoving a shoulder deep into Seth’s gut before hauling him off the ground and finally landing an F-5 on the thin mats outside the ring. Stunned from the fall, Rollins couldn’t get a swing in edgewise as the Beast flung him headfirst into the side of the ring. Seth’s head bounced off metal hiding behind the ring aprons, further dazing the Architect as Lesnar gathered his prey and clubbed him in the back. 

Again Seth tried to get his feet under him, only to be gathered up once more by Brock and flung over an announce table. Thankfully the German announcers had cleared out, Rollins’ body barely slowed by the announcers’ chairs. He refused to stay down, angry that he couldn’t get a swing in on Brock nor would ref Chad Patton get between them. He untangled himself from the chairs and cables, trying to push the action toward the ring. Lesnar cut him off and flung him over the table a second time in hopes that Seth would just stay down.

Rollins refused to stay down. He hadn’t come this far to take a dive or a nap behind an announce table no matter where his match was on the card. He felt almost relieved when Lesnar finally flung his carcass into the ring. Those valuable seconds from being rolled in to Lesnar entering the ring gave Seth time to catch his breath and go through a mental checklist of the state of his body. He could hear Patton verbally backing Lesnar off. He could hear Paul Heyman taunting him with his own catchphrases and nicknames. He could hear the crowd losing hope as Brock once again grabbed Seth and threw him out of the ring. 

Rollins rolled across the mats before slamming face-first into an announce table. Again the referee checked on him, asking him if he wanted the match called off. Seth gasped out a few “no”s before Lesnar flung him once more over the German announce table, this time landing across the announcers themselves. 

Seth landed awkwardly, his back on fire from the contortion. Brock’s paw didn’t reach again for him immediately, choosing to rip the hood off the main announce table and lean it against the ring. Brock caught Seth as he’d only just regained his footing near the timekeeper’s area. He dragged the Architect over to the hood and flung him into it. The cracking of the hood only multiplied the pain in Seth’s back. He writhed with the pain, howling in frustration but not in surrender. He wouldn’t give Brock that satisfaction.

He could hear Brock laughing. Seth wanted to laugh back, just like he remembered Roman doing four years ago. The frenzy of the attack left him little breath to bring that trademark cackle to bear. Maybe he didn’t need to laugh; maybe he could make that smile vanish by refusing to stay down. His back and shoulders protested as he tried to sit up under the looming shadow of the Beast. Seth took some satisfaction that while Lesnar wasn’t taking any damage, he had expended a lot of energy just to try to get Rollins to stay down. 

Seth refused to stay down. No matter how much it hurt. He’d been through worse. He’d been through a lot longer. He survived being chased by Dean Ambrose and his vengeance for two years straight. He’d been speared mid-air by Roman Reigns. He’d weathered the tsunami named Samoa Joe. Now he just had to survive long enough to get the bell to ring. His defiance displeased the Beast enough to throw Seth into the ring once more. 

Seth heard Chad Patton asking him if he wanted to continue. He heard Lesnar’s demand that the bell ring. Seth forced himself to his hands and knees, eyes finally meeting the referee’s.

“Ring the bell,” he managed through ragged breaths. There would be a match. As long as Seth Freakin Rollins could move, he could stand. And if he could stand…

The bell finally rang. The Beastslayer grasped for the ropes and pulled himself as upright as his back would allow. Being vertical mockery enough for Lesnar’s monstrous barrage, the Beast charged again, ramming Rollins into the corner and burying the massive shoulder into Seth’s midsection. Brock spun Seth back around and threw him across the ring with the first of what was likely a few dozen suplexes.

Seth couldn’t get the rotation in to land on his feet, the sheer distance of the throw put him briefly in the ropes. He rolled clear, shaking out cobwebs as he heard the rare sound of Brock Lesnar’s voice instead of Heyman’s, probably what few words Lesnar still knew how to say.

“Suplex City, Bitches!!” He shouted to the annoyance of the crowd. And to Seth himself. His determination only grew as he reached for ropes to brace himself and get back on his feet, hoping to finally get in some offense before Lesnar had anything else to say. His hand slipped from the ropes, staggering him the split second Brock needed to slide in for a second release German suplex across the ring. 

“Is that all you got, ‘beastslayer’?!” Heyman mocked from ringside. “Is that really all you’ve got??” 

Seth tried to ignore the barbs and get back to his feet. His elbow stung, his back felt weird, the stadium spun. He had no time to regain his bearings as Lesnar descended on him and flung him back across the ring a third time, nearly out of the ring.  He rolled from the ropes onto his left side, not risking his back on the mat from the damage done when he was flung over the German announce table three times. The mat shook from Lesnar hopping from foot to foot, actually allowing Seth a chance to breathe. That only made Seth angrier still. 

He tried once more to pull himself up with the ropes. He had his forearm on the middle rope when Lesnar approached him once more, grabbing him by the throat and the hair to control him to the center of the ring. In a terrifyingly swift and simple motion, Seth once again found himself on Brock’s shoulders, a very final F-5 incoming. Lesnar roared at the audience in defiance of their demand for his demise. 

If there was a time for a miracle, Seth knew it had to be now. 

He wriggled free from Lesnar’s shoulders and landed solidly behind Lesnar. With what strength he still had, he shoved Brock forward, and the Beast stumbled into the referee. Seth could see that it wasn’t a clean hit on the ref, but enough for Chad to lose his balance and fall to the floor. He stayed on his knees as Brock wheeled to face Rollins with every intent on putting him back across those broad shoulders and F-5 him to oblivion.

Seth had no intention on going that far up. He just needed to land one blow… and the Beast crumpled.  _ It hurts EVERYONE there,  _ he thought to himself as he heard the arena explode in cheers of gratitude.  _ That one was for the fans, you part-time hack!  _

He could hear Paul Heyman screaming for, then at, the referee when the ref returned to the ring. Seth kicked Lesnar in the face to see if Lesnar’s hands would move away from his groin, painting Heyman for the liar he was. This time, he wasn’t lying about Lesnar’s injury. To Seth, Heyman had been lying to crowds for months. The crowd’s demands made him reach up from the mat to grab the top rope with both hands to pull himself to his feet.

_ If I can stand, I can fight! And if I can fight... _

Seth charged and Stomped Lesnar’s face into the mat, sprawling into a corner. He mentally ordered himself to get up.  _ That stomp was for Dean, for dead-assing him at Wrestlemania 32. _

He pulled himself to his feet as Lesnar writhed in pain and confusion. Heyman’s histrionics muted by a crowd calling for another stomp by the BeastSlayer that they had all placed their hopes upon. Seth knew this as he pulled himself upright again, watching Brock again make it to all fours.  _ I can still fight, so I can… _

Again Rollins charged, wild-eyed and locked in on Lesnar’s head, stomping it even harder into the mat before collapsing in the opposite corner.  _ That was for Roman and for last year’s ‘Mania, you unsafe sack of crap!  _

Seth pulled himself up a little quicker this time, Lesnar finally recovering from the nutshot. The entire stadium was on its feet. Seth was on his feet. He glanced down to Heyman, who peeked over his hands covering most of his face. The Advocate had been scared speechless, seeing his golden goose grounded and still unable to stand.

“HERE’S YOUR SPOILER, PAUL!” Seth charged one more time. 

_ Because THIS Stomp is for ME!  _

This time Seth lunged forward, leaping a good length of the ring. The entire world slowed down in that moment for him as he sailed toward Lesnar’s head and neck, the past 18 months playing through his mind. Having to deal with Dean getting hurt. Fighting tooth and nail through last year’s Mania for the Intercontinental title and defending it all over the planet. Fighting through blood, sweat, and tears shed in that ring for a business he loves more than anything else in the world, now culminating in the most important STOMP he’ll ever make. 

This time the Beast lay motionless after his head rang off the mat and boards, the sound lost in a fresh explosion of cheers. Seth wouldn’t risk anything else, including his cover of Lesnar. He wouldn’t taunt Heyman, he wouldn’t taunt Brock. He hooked one leg, used the other arm to pin down Lesnar’s right arm, both legs planted over Brock’s left arm. He held on with a grip usually reserved for the edge of a cliff, closing his eyes and ignoring Heyman’s stupefied expression as the referee counted three. Seth waited until he heard the bell. Even then he waited another second or two before rolling clear, gasping for air and somehow smiling through it all.

He could barely hear the announcer over the chaos. He could barely hear the ref, kneeling only a foot or two away. He could only hear the crowd that only grew louder as Seth rolled to a seated position, then to all fours. He slowly turned his head toward the ref, only seeing the red, gold and black of the Universal title hovering before him in a fever dream that could not be any more real. He pushed back to a kneel, fixated on the belt. His music barely audible over the fans. He saw the ref pulling it away from him, coaxing Rollins to his feet as he only followed the motion of the belt moving up, then slowly away. Seth snatched it from the referee, holding the Universal title to his chest like he’d hold tight to his brothers. It was finally his. He’d avenged Roman, validated Dean and put himself at the very top of the mountain where he’d always imagined he could be. 

But his imagination didn’t prepare him for this rush of emotions. He thrust the title into the air for the world to see, his battlecry mixing with the elation of an entire Universe around him! He embraced the belt once more as he rolled clear of the ring, savoring the match - even the pre-match assault - as it replayed on the giant screen above the ramp. He grinned as his low blow went completely undetected by the referee. He mimicked the stomp motion for each of the Stomps in the replay. He proudly marched to the top of the ramp and held up the title for the world to see once more, his visage appearing on the giant monitor above.

“WE DID IT~!!” He proudly screamed to the heavens in triumph, raising the belt again before bringing it back down to stare into it. It was indeed his. He earned it. His soul had been spared. A Universe had been saved. With that balance restored to the wrestling side of things, Seth Freakin Rollins treated the crowd to his tradition of helicoptering the belt over his head in a frenzy reserved for mosh pits. He faced the crowd as the title landed neatly on his shoulder, the center plate on his back. The same place the entire company would be going forward. 

_ WE did it.  _

 

\----------------------------------------

 

The rest of the night for Seth nothing but an insane blur of interviews, congratulations, embraces and photo ops. He heard about the matches as the night wore on; Roman had defeated Drew McIntyre, confirming the Big Dog was indeed 100%. Kofi Kingston earned his Grand Slam and smashed some more of the glass ceiling. Becky Lynch proving she was indeed The Man by winning both Womens’ titles. 

Even if he was the opening act, he still didn’t get clear of the arena and back to his hotel until near dawn. He closed the door to his hotel room and exhaled in exhaustion and bliss. He slung his bags onto the bed and he took out the Universal title again to just stare at it some more. Now he could let it sink in. Now he could savor the title. He’d only had it out of hand once, for them to affix his gunsight logo side plates to it. So it was truly his. His inner geek made Gollum jokes about the red belt as he reverently lay it next to him in bed like a mistress. It’s siren song and glimmering gems would comfort him as he faded into a deep, relieved, peaceful sleep. Saving the Universe is pretty damn rewarding work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you still need to know who sent all those mystery texts. TUNE IN NEXT AND FINAL CHAPTER....


	11. Monday after Mania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, whodunit

 

The Monday after Mania could be almost as hectic as the Show of Shows itself, especially for champions. Seth once again accosted from his hotel room to the arena, interviews and photo ops, grateful fans and friends catching up with him to see if his feet were touching the ground again. It’s easier as a champion in some respects, and what sleep he did get refreshed him as the ‘new seasons’ of Raw and Smackdown would begin tonight.

One of the agents let Seth know that the New Day were in the building, so he’d have a chance to congratulate Kofi Kingston for his victory over Daniel Bryan the previous night. He guessed that Big E nor Xavier Woods let poor Kofi sleep. Then again, Kofi was probably jumping back and forth from each bed in their hotel room with them. He also knew he didn’t have to look hard for their locker room, he just had to listen. He’d listen for Xavier’s verbal histrionics, Kofi’s laughter, Big E’s braggadaccio. Seth grinned wider when his ears caught those sounds, and wider still as he gave the door a playful knock.

Their revelry silenced briefly before the door opened the slightest crack, Xavier’s curious eye peering out. Recognizing Rollins immediately, he flung the door open. “CAPTAIN!!” He shouted in triumph, embracing his friend tight in celebration. 

“Oh no,” Seth laughed along at the moniker given him by this trio a few years ago. Xavier dragged him into the room. Big E tossed his Xbox controller aside and beamed at the new Universal Champion.

“O Captain! Our captain!” He declared in his best preacher voice.  “Ya boys the -” 

Xavier hurried to Big E’s side so they could declare together. “NEW DAY~!” 

Big E then continued, “Are proud to see that you have indeed, slain the beast!”

Xavier pointed behind Seth with a huge flourish: “O captain! Our Captain!” he announced, “Behold!  That indeed, we too, bear gold!”

“INDEEEED~!!!” Big E inflected proudly as Kofi Kingston emerged from the bathroom with a huge smile on his face. The WWE title sat neatly on the desk, where Kofi quickly scooped it up and wrapped it around his waist.

“As you can see,” Xavier continued in his over-the-top host voice. “We are in rare company!” He hopped between Seth and Kofi. “Behold! We have before us not one but TWO!” with a simple gesture he invited everyone into the gyrations that accompanied his declaration of  “W, W, E, Top, Tier, Champions~!!”

Seth continued to laugh as the trio celebrated and danced around the room like three little kids. He jumped a little as Big E slid to a stop a little TOO close for comfort.

“And, my Captain!” Big E continued in his outdoor voice, “is why WE are glad YOU are here!”

Seth just kept on grinning, no matter how ridiculous the trio got. “To be honest, guys, I was here to congratulate Kofi and make sure you two,” pointing to Xavier and Big E, “at least let Kofi sleep.”

“Sleep?” Kofi repeated with indignance. “Sleep’s at the END of the week!”

Xavier agreed. “The party is STILL rolling from Wrestlemania!” 

“And we can’t WAIT to celebrate on the Red Brand!” Big E finished. “Because TODAY! It’s not just about celebrations and gratitude!”

“OHH NOO~!” The trio lamented together.

“It’s about all the hard work!” Xavier exclaimed.

“The DEDICATION~!!” Big E preached.

“Putting in the time!” Kofi added. “And maybe a little luck-”

“But the POWAHH OF POSITIVITY CONQUERS ALL!” Big E thundered in conclusion.

Seth hand a hand over his face. “Now I REALLY believe you haven’t slept all night.”

They deliberately ignored Seth to continue the act. “So Captain, our Captain!” Xavier announced with an arm around the Architect, “We gonna celebrate tonight! BUT, There was just one thing we needed to make Kofi’s Championship victory complete!”

Seth started to struggle, “Oh no no no no no , I’m not wearing - “

Kofi leaned in to Seth, removing his belt to “toast” by touching their faceplates. “Nah man, It needed something special!”

“Something that can’t be bought back when sold!” Big E added with ridiculous enthusiasm. “Something that every title has and can always use more of!”

Seth’s confusion amused the trio. “What are you talking about? The only way that could have been more perfect is if it had - “

“YOUR SOUL!!” Growled the New Day in a dark chorus, eyes wide and focused on Rollins. Xavier waved his arms at Seth as through reaching for Seth’s heart; Big E pointed dramatically, purpose in his eyes. Kofi leaned in with a diabolical grin on his face. 

Seth’s jaw dropped. He never brought up the texts he was receiving in front of them, not even during streams. His hands came up to slow this whole party down. “Wait, wait… YOU GUYS wanted me to sell my soul?” 

“You thought about it, didn’t you?” Kofi accused with amusement. “We saw how shook you were when you had to deal with Paul Heyman right after the Rumble.”

Big E produced his own phone from a random pocket. “But thanks to these textual taunts, these mysterious messages, these bizarre words and dares, you STAYED THE COURSE, O Captain Our Captain, and look atcha now!”

“Though Xavier,” Kofi chimed in, “was the most disappointed when you didn’t ask again about meeting up for that sale.”

“You didn’t show up the first time,” Seth taunted. “And if you HAD shown up, what would you have actually said?”

Xavier grinned right back at Seth. “We would have sent someone, all right. But I wonder  _ who  _ we would have sent.”

The trio broke out into a hooting, discordant stream of “Who? Who? Who? Who?”, just to fluster Seth some more. Xavier stopped first and motioned for quiet.

“Regardless of who we sent,” Xavier finalyl explained, “the sweetest part would have been you coming here so We could ALL declare - all meaning me, of course… ‘YOUR SOUL IS MINE!’“

“All this?” Seth asked in full exasperation, “All this was giant technological RIB?”

Big E raised a finger to stop Seth’s protests. “Now to be fair, we did not act alone!”

“OHH NO~!!” The trio lamented again.

“We were called in!” Big E insisted. “Drafted! Called upon!”

Kofi nodded. “We were doing this as a favor for someone who knows you all too well!”

“You might know him,” Xavier continued in mock matter-of-fact. “Some would consider him… well, he’s a One Man Samoan Swat Team. Some people have an Army, you had a Shield -”

“ROMAN??!?” Seth exclaimed. “But how? He wasn’t even-” he stopped as all three New Day members waved their phones at him.

“Now Roman wanted us to do this since he couldn’t be here,” Kofi explained. “What happened with me - well, things just fell into place.”

“And all those numbers," Xavier pondered, "hm, I wonder  _ who  _  could get us all those numbers?”

Again the trio erupted into a  “Who? Who?? Who? Who?” discordant discourse.

“Hey, HEY!!!” Seth interrupted. “Just give it to me straight, alright?”

“Okay!” Big E grinned. “Not ‘Who’ but ‘Ooo’!”

“U-SO’S!!” The trio shouted in unison. Seth rubbed his face with both hands.

“But HOW?" Seth demanded. "You’re all on Smackdown and- “

“NO MORE SPOILERS!” They happily shouted Seth down.

Kofi finally stepped up and offered a hand. “Seriously, man, congratulations. This is the new start that both shows needed.”

Seth finally allowed another smile and shook Kofi’s hand. “Thanks man. And that looks good on you.”

The handshake then slid into an embrace, knowing that it this little prank was the boot to the butt that Seth needed. He didn’t have Roman at the beginning, didn’t know if Dean would be on board, but here his friends networked under his nose to get him motivated and ready for the most important part of his career. Now he and Kofi were in charge of the shows as top champions. Now some new stories could be told on top of all the stories that came out of that magical night at Wrestlemania.

The genuine smile twisted into Seth’s trademark smirk. “Hey Kofi, since I’m here and you’re here, I got an idea for tonight’s show….”

Big E leaned in. “Oh I gotta hear this-”

“We’re listening!” Xavier put a hand to his ear.

“Yo E, Xavier, No Spoilers.” Kingston and Rollins walked out of the hotel room to leave the others to guess. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a New Day, a new era, a pair of new champions ready to lead their shows forward in new directions! 
> 
> I hope that you have enjoyed this story as much as I have writing it. Curious to hear alternate theories if you have one!


End file.
